


Beware the Sirens

by Stark_Raving_Madlad



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Centaurs, Egg Laying, F/F, F/M, Harems, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mermaid Sex, Mermaids, Mermen, Merpeople, Nipple Play, Non-consensual Transformation, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sirens, Weird Biology, human to mermaid TF, human to merman TF, kinky mermaid sex, merfolk, merfolk can't feel anything below the waist, mermaid problem, mermaids can't have sex, mermaids don't have hoo-hahs, mermen don't have junk, sexually frustrated merpeople
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Raving_Madlad/pseuds/Stark_Raving_Madlad
Summary: Thomas goes boating off the coast of Australia and gets caught in a storm. Being rescued by a mermaid seems like the greatest thing in the world, until it's suddenly the worst thing possible.
Relationships: Human/Mermaid - Relationship, Merman/Mermaid - Relationship, mermaid/mermaid
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

Thomas was a recent college graduate from California, a former football player and a stereotypical jock. To celebrate his lately having completed school, he was vacationing half a world away from home, on the other side of the Pacific Ocean, in Australia. At present, he was boating off the shore of Queensland’s Gold Coast, living it up and partying down. He had everything that a man could ask for: drinks, tunes, and the enthusiastic company of a couple of local surfer-cuties on break from university. (In truth, Thomas didn’t actually know whether they were Australians or New Zealanders; he wouldn’t have been able to tell regardless, and he didn’t particularly care. All he knew was, surfer-girls with accents like theirs were sexy as hell.)

Their names were Beth and Jessica. Thomas looked their way as he cracked open a beer-can, gazing appreciatively at their exposed, suntanned skin and noting how well they both filled out their cutoff shorts and string bikini-tops. Beth was the blonde; Jessica was the brunette. Beyond that, Thomas hadn’t really gotten to know either of them all that well; not yet. At the moment, the girls were dancing suggestively to whatever trashy pop-music was blaring over the radio, drinks in hand. During the ride out from the boat-rental place at the marina, they had made no secret about their tittering and sharing conspiratorial whispers together as they leered at Thomas, called him a “hottie” just loud enough to be overheard, and implied that a threesome was in the cards.

And then, with a speed and suddenness that shocked all three of them, the skies darkened, and the rain began to fall. The girls panicked; they knew how dangerous a Pacific squall could be, especially to the inexperienced. Thomas wasted no time starting up the engine again and turning the board toward shore.

Then the torrents of rain came down in sideways sheets, and the winds gusted at hurricane speeds, and the waves kicked up taller than their heads, rocking the boat violently from side to side—until the vessel capsized.

As Thomas was swept away and pulled under the water, he was almost certain that he heard something strange… something otherworldly, that almost sounded like… women singing.

* * *

When Thomas came to, he was lying on a sunny, sandy beach. His clothes were waterlogged; so was he. He choked, spat up a mouthful of saltwater, and gasped for breath. He was covered in sand and seaweed. He tried to call out, but his voice was hoarse. Then he groaned, rolled over, and felt himself all over. He was exhausted; but he didn’t appear to be injured.

After several agonizingly long minutes, once he felt that he’d rested enough to regain some of his strength, Thomas sat up and tried to take stock of his surroundings. There were a few bits of debris and flotsam on the beach with him, but other than that, no sign of the boat—and no sign of either Jessica or Beth. He appeared to be on the shore of a pristine lagoon, its placid blue-green waters as still and flat as glass. And he was alone.

“Oh, good!” said a girl’s voice, soprano-pitched and melodious. “You’re finally awake!”

Thomas whirled about, and his voice caught in his throat. He wanted to cry out, to make some exclamation of surprise and amazement, but he couldn’t. This sight was too unreal, too fantastical to believe.

There, lying next to him on the beach, was a freaking _mermaid_.

She was gorgeous: she had wavy red hair, piercing ocean-blue eyes, and full, pouty lips. Her naked breasts were K-cups _at least_ , with pert, pink little nipples. Her tail was covered in shimmering fish-scales which appeared to be either silver or green, depending on the angle from which he looked at them; and at the end of it flopped a wide caudal fin, the same color as the scales. Curiously, the way the mermaid’s tail moved, it didn’t remind Thomas of a fish _at all_ —she was able to bend at the waist and at the knee, despite the fact that the whole of her lower body was very clearly a single great appendage.

Briefly, he wondered whether this lovely creature before him wasn’t perhaps an ordinary woman in a mermaid costume, playing some sort of prank on him, or indulging in an odd fetish. But, no: the more he studied that magnificent tail of hers, the more apparent it became that it was real. Her tail looked for all the world like a woman’s pair of _perfect_ legs, but stuck together, the space between them filled in with flesh, and then _painted_ over with glittering scales—only, this was no mere paint-job. No degree of makeup artistry or special-effects wizardry could have faked what Thomas was seeing now with his own eyes.

“You can close your mouth now,” said the mermaid with a girlish giggle. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, it’s rude to stare?”

Thomas tested his voice again and managed to croak out, “Who are you? What… what happened?”

“My name is Clio,” said the mermaid. “What’s yours?”

“T-Thomas.”

“Well, Thomas, it looks like you’ve been shipwrecked. There isn’t much left of your boat, I’m afraid. You sure are lucky that I swam by when I did, though; otherwise, you might have drowned, like your lady-friend.”

It took a moment for Thomas to process what the mermaid had just told him. “What did you just say?”

“The girl who was with you on the boat. She’s dead.” The mermaid cast a guilty gaze down at the sand and said, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t save her. But she was already gone by the time I’d found you.”

Thomas scrambled to sit up and exclaimed, “And what about the other girl!?”

This took Clio by surprise. “What other girl?”

“There were two girls on that boat with me! What happened to the other girl!?”

“I’m sorry,” said the mermaid, shaking her head. “I didn’t see anybody else.”

Thomas closed his eyes and fought to suppress the feelings of guilt and sorrow welling up within him. “Describe her,” he said following a brief moment of silence.

“Excuse me?”

“The girl who drowned. What did she look like?”

“She had curly, golden hair,” said Clio, “and scraps of red cloth covering her chest.”

“That was Beth,” said Thomas. He looked at Clio and said, “Her name was Beth.”

“Was she someone important to you?” she asked. “Your lover? Your wife?”

Thomas felt his mouth go dry as he shook his head. It felt somehow _disrespectful_ to tell the truth, but neither did he have any reason to lie. “No, nothing like that. We’d only just met. A little bit before we all went out on the boat—” A sudden realization came to him, and he exclaimed, “Jessica could still be out there! You should go look for her—”

Clio cut him off. “There’s no need. If she’s alive, one of my sisters will find her. I’m here to take care of _you_.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” said the mermaid, “that since I’m the one who rescued you, I’m the one who gets to… enjoy your company.” She bit her lower lip, reached out to Thomas’s crotch, and started pawing at his manhood through his swim-trunks.

Thomas swallowed. Clio certainly wasn’t being shy about what she wanted, that was for sure. He quickly felt himself growing hard, and before he could utter a word, she hooked her thumbs around the waistband of his trunks and yanked them down, exposing his erection to the open air. Lust in her eyes, she wrapped both hands around his shaft, gave him a few tentative strokes, and then demanded, “Kiss me, Thomas.”

All of Thomas’s worries, including his concern for Jessica’s fate, were momentarily swept aside. He took the mermaid into his arms, closed his eyes, and leaned in close. Their lips brushed together sweetly, and in short order, Thomas felt the mermaid pushing her tongue lewdly into his mouth, moaning as she did so. Clio gently raked her fingernails across the skin of Thomas’s back, using the motion to pull his shirt up over his head; he raised up his arms, allowing the garment to be removed entirely, before reaching down and running his hands over Clio’s beautiful body, squeezing her breasts, teasing at her nipples (she gasped in pleasure when he did that), and then feeling his way down her tight, narrow tummy, down past her waistline, down to the slick and slimy scales of her tail.

The mermaid shivered under Thomas’s manual ministrations. He stroked and groped at her, feeling everywhere; but the front of her tail was smooth and featureless, except for its hint of a leg-like shape, the merest suggestion that there were femurs and thigh-muscles encased within those scales. Finding nothing to play with in front, he reached around and squeezed Clio’s backside, feeling up her butt—she most definitely still had ass-cheeks, scaly though they were, but the crack between them was just as filled-in as the space between her “legs”, and she didn’t have any holes back there either.

“Enough of that now,” said Clio, pausing to take Thomas’s hands and place them firmly on her supple tits. “You pay attention to _these_ , and I’ll make sure you have a _really_ good time.” Then she placed one of her hands behind Thomas’s head and pulled him in close for another heated kiss; while with the other, she once again reached down to stroke and pump his erect penis, increasing the tempo and causing every last vestige of rational thought to flee the human’s mind.

The handjob was heavenly; Thomas’s dick was slick with precum, and Clio’s grip was gentle, deft, and perfect in every way. He felt the muscles in his ballsack tighten, and he let out a throaty cry; it wouldn’t be very long now before he went over the edge—

But he didn’t come yet; the mermaid wasn’t about to let her new plaything off quite so easily. She released Thomas’s cock—it was now _painfully_ hard—and reached up to gently brush his cheeks with both hands as they made out. Thomas continued to mash and massage her breasts, and Clio encouraged him between kisses with soft, mewling whispers—“Yes… don’t stop… keep that up, lover.”—before breaking her lips away from Thomas’s and then kissing her way down his neck, down his collar bone, down his chest, kissing and licking an erotic trail all the way down to his groin.

Thomas gasped aloud when Clio took him into her mouth. It was _indescribable_ —the splendid skill of her lips and tongue, the wet heat of the back of her throat. The way that she looked up and kept her eyes fixed on Thomas’s as her head bobbed up and down, working his shaft. This time, the human stood no chance whatsoever.

When he came at last, he came _hard_. He exploded into Clio’s mouth, filling her with his hot, sticky seed. And the mermaid swallowed down every drop, greedily, moaning with pleasure the whole time.

As Thomas lay back on the beach-sand and recovered himself, his head still swimming from the afterglow of his orgasm, Clio released his dick with a wet _pop_ and lay down next to him, propped up on one elbow, her head resting in her hand. She planted a soft kiss on his brow, playfully twirled a finger through his chest-hair, and then whispered into his ear: “Now watch what happens when a siren tastes the seed of the land. This is a rare and special privilege: it’s not just any mermaid who gets to enjoy it!”

The mermaid looked down at her tail, and Thomas followed her gaze. He watched in shocked amazement as her scales receded—not all the way; her tail didn’t morph completely into legs, or anything like that. Rather, the abrupt line separating fair human skin from slick fishy scales merely descended a foot or so, from Clio’s waistline down to her upper-thighs. As it went, the mermaid’s flesh magically rearranged itself, forming a small thigh-gap and a very human vulva. In practically no time at all, Clio had everything that a woman ought to have below the waist: a cute little ginger bush, a perfect pussy, and a human asshole between shapely, bare buttocks.

“The changes won’t last long,” said Clio with a desperate hunger in her voice. “Please, Thomas! Tell me that you’re a man who recovers his virility quickly!”

Thomas was still breathing heavily, but the sight of Clio with her fishtail now starting at her thighs instead of her waist, the sight of her newly-formed but sadly temporary pussy exposed for him and him alone to look upon and adore, that had him more excited than he’d ever been in his life. “I’m gonna need a few minutes,” he said frankly, “but I think I can go another round, so long as you can give me some time. Do I have at least… say, ten minutes?”

Clio nodded and kissed Thomas again. They spent his recovery interval languidly making out, their tongues dueling, while Thomas lazily fingered at Clio’s pussy, stroking her inner folds. He used the moisture that formed there to lubricate her clit, jilling her off while occasionally inserting a finger or two into her tunnel and then thrusting in and out, causing her to gasp and shudder. He worked Clio’s tight, virginal cunt, opening up her passage, getting her more and more excited—

Until, at last, Thomas felt his boner coming back. Clio noticed it too, right away, and she responded by turning around so that her back was to Thomas’s front. While still lying on her side, she curled her body into a bent-over position that exposed her pussy from behind, and said, “Quickly, Thomas! I want you inside me! Fill my womanhood, before it disappears for good!” Then she pressed close against the human’s body, molding her shape to Thomas’s until he was spooning her, and she wiggled her ass enticingly against his hardness.

Thomas didn’t have to be told twice. He reached down, aligned the head of his cock with Clio’s nether-lips, and entered her. They came together, suddenly and completely, and Clio rolled her hips as best as she was able given the awkward positioning, riding his cock sideways. To Thomas, it was sheer bliss, thrusting into the mermaid from behind while at the same time reaching around to play with her huge and gorgeous boobs. Clio rocked against him, bucking her hips and squeezing internally; Thomas found that he was having trouble matching her rhythm in this position, so he stopped what he was doing—Clio gave him a questioning look over her shoulder—and Thomas responded by getting up on his knees.

Clio got the message: she got up on her hands and her solitary, scale-covered “knee”, presenting Thomas with her now very human, very voluptuous ass. Thomas straddled her tail, and once again he found her cunt, sliding the whole of his length inside of her; things were much easier from this angle. They went at it doggy-style, man and mermaid, Thomas gripping her hips and thrusting, Clio holding herself up on her hands and gasping out increasingly ragged breaths and squeals of carnal delight, while her tailfin flopped up and down on the sand. All too quickly, Thomas felt himself losing control, and with one final thrust, he came inside of Clio with a long, low groan—while at the very same time, as if some erotic magic had willed the improbable, the mermaid experienced her thunderous climax too, quivering and shuddering and calling out Thomas’s name in the throes of her passion.

Her muscles turned to jelly, and she collapsed forward onto the warm sand. Thomas fell back and sat on the beach next to her, stunned and stupefied, but decidedly satisfied. He was content; Clio was too, many times over, because human sex wasn’t something that she got to experience practically _ever_ —that, and also because she knew exactly what was about to happen next.

Her purpose was about to be fulfilled.

Thomas was no longer surprised when Clio’s tail once again _changed_. Her scales grew back up to her waist, her thighs merged back together entirely, and her pussy and asshole vanished as if they’d never been there, locked beneath a wall of impenetrable scales and rearranged back into an unfeeling, piscine sort of anatomy. Thomas was mildly saddened by this, but not surprised.

He _was_ , however, rather shocked when his own legs very suddenly—rapidly, and without any kind of pain or other discernible sensation—melded together like a zipper being drawn closed from his groin down to his feet. Brilliant, bright-red fish-scales covered over every inch of his thighs and shins, encasing his former legs from his waistline down to his feet. Thomas could only watch in abject, thunderstruck horror as his cock and balls were sucked into the inside of his tail along with his thighs, disappearing utterly as they merged into the sensationless flesh that filled in the gap where his groin had been only seconds earlier, leaving him with naught but the same flat and scaly plane of a lap that Clio had.

Finally, to capstone the transformation, Thomas’s feet melted together and flattened out into a yard-wide tailfin that started flopping involuntarily on the sand, a reflex that Thomas was at present entirely too panicky to even try to control. The newly-polymorphed merman ran his hands over his fishtail— _he_ , Thomas, now had a _fishtail_ , he realized, to his terror and his disgust. He could tell that he most definitely still had leg-bones, somewhere in there, locked together inside this freakish column of muscle and scales and fish-slime. He could still bend at the waist and at the knee, but he no longer had anything like ankles—instead, his shin-bones extended down about a foot longer than they had when he’d been human, and in place of his feet he now had a semi-rigid caudal fin that somehow managed to resemble both the tailfin of a rayed fish and the flukes of a whale at the same time.

“Wha—what is this!?” cried Thomas. Helplessly, he groped at the spot where his dick used to be, but it simply wasn’t there anymore. “What happened? _What the fuck did you do to me!?_ ”

Clio giggled. “You mean, you didn’t know? When you make love to a siren, you become her coven’s triton. Now you are a lord of the sea: our husband and protector!”

Thomas blinked and tried to make sense of the things Clio was saying. “Coven… triton…?” He suppressed the sudden urge to throw up and cried, “Why is my dick not there!? How do you make it come out again!?”

“Silly,” said the mermaid. “You don’t have one anymore! A man of the sea has no need for such a… crude organ. No matter how fun it was to play with, at least for a little while. You're a triton now; not some brainless dolphin!”

Thomas could only gape at Clio wordlessly. He didn’t know what to say to that. He was too indignant, too astonished, too horrified.

“Come on,” said Clio, offering her hand to Thomas. “Come with me, and let me teach you how to swim. You’ll need to learn, if you’re going to live in the ocean with us. And you should also meet my sisters—Calliope and Terpsichore—since they’re your wives now too.”

Thomas didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to go with Clio; he wanted to smack her hand away, to scream and yell, to curse her name, to shout hateful things at her and make her feel terrible for the terrible thing that she’d done to him. He wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all; to beg God for a different outcome, a miracle to reverse this accursed transformation; to wake up from this nightmare and find himself back in his old human body. But he also wanted to survive—and to do that, he probably needed the mermaid’s help.

With a glare of pure, undiluted loathing on his face, Thomas took Clio’s hand. Together, they awkwardly crawled and shimmied on their hands and tails down to the water, out into the lagoon. Then, flipping their tailfins, they dove under and swam out into the open waters of the South Pacific.


	2. Chapter 2

Swimming in the ocean as a merman was the strangest thing to Thomas. He could see clearly, he could hear and speak just as easily as if he were above the water, and he didn’t feel the ocean’s cold temperatures or crushing pressures at depth. The most disconcerting thing was breathing: Thomas had gills now, in his neck—they had opened up just as soon as he’d plunged under the water, the same as Clio’s—and when his gills had started working, his lungs had more or less _stopped,_ unless he spoke.

The undersea world was undeniably beautiful, and Clio, who held Thomas’s hand loosely in her own as they swam together, took every opportunity to point out some new feature: corals, anemones, undersea plantlife. Thomas wasn’t really paying attention: he was too distracted by the depressing fact that as he swam—kicking his tail was exactly like kicking his old legs would be if they were bound tightly together, so he found that he was now working some decidedly underutilized muscle-groups—he could still feel (or maybe he was only imagining) that his legs were somehow still _separate_ and merely tied together by some kind of restrictive outer covering. That if only he could will his legs to respond the right way, he could move them independently again—and thereby free his imprisoned penis from within its cage of flesh and scales. Being a merman felt so tantalizingly, agonizingly _close_ to being human—minus the sorely-missed and sadly all-too-absent sensation of his genitals flapping and dragging in the water as he swam.

Clio tried to get Thomas to open up, but no matter what she said or did, he remained sullen. Finally, she became fed up and exclaimed, “Oooh, you’re being such a _crab_! Isn’t there anything I can say that will cheer you up, my beloved?”

“I seriously doubt it.”

“How about this,” said Clio, flicking her fins and coming to a stop. At the same time, she righted herself in the water so that she was "standing" upright as she floated. (Thomas tried to mimic her movements as she spoke and managed to accomplish the same feat, but only with some difficulty and awkwardness.) “Now that you’re a merman, you’re practically immortal. You’ll live for hundreds and hundreds of years!”

Thomas considered Clio’s words. The thought of living forever _was_ kind of cool… but it came at such a cost! Could a life without _sex_ really be worth living? Not if it went on for eternity, he decided. Actually, that sounded kind of like torture. “Given the choice between living forever and getting my dick back,” he said at last, “I really think I’d rather have my dick.”

“Well too bad,” said Clio, “because the change is _permanent._ There’s no way in the world to turn you human again.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Thomas petulantly. “Well—what about when _we_ had sex? You were able to give yourself a pussy!”

Clio’s response was a mirthful belly-laugh that had her doubled over in hysterics. (Bubbles escaped from her gills as she chortled and guffawed uncontrollably.) Once she managed to compose herself again, she said, “That happens when a _siren tastes the seed of the land._ Would you really be willing to blow a guy, just to get your penis back for half an hour!?”

In truth, Thomas wasn’t anywhere near that desperate yet, but he didn’t want Clio to win the argument. “Maybe!” he shouted.

“Well, forget it,” said the mermaid. “The magic only works when a _siren_ does it. Normal mermaids and mermen don’t have that power. And even a siren can only do it once, to give her coven a husband. I’ll never fuck anybody again, and my sisters won’t get to do it _ever_ because I’ve already done it!”

Thomas folded his arms and glared. “I hope it was fucking worth it!” he growled.

Clio’s expression softened, and she said quietly, “It was. My sisters and I finally have a triton. It’s all a coven of sirens could ever want!”

Thomas was still annoyed, but he did have to admit that he was curious about something. As he and Clio resumed their swim—he had no idea where they were going, he just followed Clio’s lead—he asked, “Can you _please_ explain the whole siren, triton, coven thing? You do realize, I have no idea what you’re talking about, right?”

“That’s fair,” said Clio. “A siren is a mermaid with magic. A sea-witch. And just like land-witches, sirens like to gather in covens—groups of at least three. It makes our magic more powerful. Especially when we all sing together.”

“Sing… wait a minute,” said Thomas. He cast an accusing glare at Clio and said, “When that storm came, and the boat sank, I thought I heard singing!”

Clio looked away and didn’t answer.

“Was that you!? Did you sink my boat—and kill Beth!?”

“We didn’t mean to!” said Clio suddenly, looking Thomas in the eye. “I would have saved her if I could have! We’re not murderers!”

Thomas didn’t believe a word of what she was saying. “In myths and legends—”

“I know what the _legends_ say,” spat Clio. “They’re a pack of wicked lies! Sirens don’t eat people; we don’t sink ships for fun. We only do what we do to find husbands—to create tritons.”

“And what’s the difference between a triton and a regular merman?”

“Only a human man can be made into a triton,” explained Clio. “That, and being married to a siren-coven, which is what gives you your immortality.”

“Anything else?” asked Thomas. “Do I have any… magical abilities now? Any super-powers, like Aquaman?”

Clio hesitated—it was brief and subtle, but Thomas did notice it—before answering, “Sorry, no. Mer-boys can’t be sea-witches. Only girls.”

“If you say so,” said Thomas. “Obviously, you know a whole lot more about this than I do.”

Clio smiled sweetly and changed the subject. “Come on! Let’s go practice your swimming. You can do all kinds of amazing things now that you have a tail—and you’ll just adore leaping into the waves on the surface!”

Thomas sighed. “All right.” He wasn’t about to accept this as his fate—not by a longshot—but he was willing to play along for now.

* * *

Clio had been right; swimming as a merman had proven to be incredibly fun. Leaping high out of the water like a dolphin and then crashing back down into some huge open-ocean wave, without ever having to worry about the sting of the saltwater in his eyes, or his lungs filling up with water, was probably the closest thing that Thomas had ever experienced to flying. Over the course of the next couple of days, Clio showed Thomas how to live his new life under the sea: how to swim, how to catch and eat fish, what plants were edible, and so forth. The merfolk lived a wild kind of life, at one with the sea; and all of the sea was their home. They built no houses or other structures for themselves—there was no need, since they could easily escape any storms by simply diving deep down under—and only ever took shelter in places like the lagoon on the deserted island where Clio had transformed Thomas.

Once Clio had determined that Thomas’s “merman lessons” were complete—the basics had been simple enough for him to master rather quickly—they returned to that lagoon, just as the sun was setting. They beached themselves and watched the sunset together, and Clio leaned on Thomas and told him, “This is my favorite place in the whole, wide world. I love it here.”

To his annoyance, Thomas found that he actually sort of agreed. “It _is_ kind of pretty.” What was worse, he found that he was actually enjoying himself. He had had fun during the past two days. He enjoyed Clio’s company. She was pleasant to be around, a witty conversationalist, and pretty goddamn easy on the eyes.

Plus, he mused, it might be kind of nice to live out his life as a seaside vacation that never ended. It sounded better than the pressures of jobs, bills, and student loans, at any rate. The only real downside was the physiologically-enforced celibacy… but then again, Thomas wondered, just how asexual was this new merman body of his, really?

He leaned over and kissed Clio. She hadn’t expected that, but she’d _hoped_ for it—and she responded warmly, pulling Thomas close and mashing her breasts against his bare chest as they locked lips and sucked face. Thomas felt Clio rub her tail against his, and he felt their flukes brush together—both pleasant sensations, but not terribly arousing. After a long and decidedly enjoyable interval of disappointingly chaste kissing—Thomas couldn’t help but note his glaring lack of an erection, or any other feeling in his loins—he broke the kiss and asked Clio in a husky voice, “How do merpeople mate?”

Clio sat back and regarded Thomas with a curious expression. After a long moment, she replied, “Just like most fish. The females lay eggs; the males fertilize them externally.”

“And… does it feel good?”

Clio shrugged. “A little. Not like the sex you’re used to, though.”

Thomas hesitated and then asked, “Can… can we try?”

“You want to mate with me!?” said Clio. She sounded truly surprised.

“I can’t help it!” exclaimed Thomas. “It’s been _days_! I can’t jerk off, I can’t even _feel_ my—any kind of—God damn it, I’m horny as hell, and I just can’t take it anymore!”

Clio frowned. “I’m sorry that you’re frustrated,” she said timidly. “But we can’t mate right now.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t possible,” said Clio. “It’s not our time.”

Thomas was aghast. “Merpeople have a mating-season!?”

“More like a mating _cycle_ ,” corrected Clio. “We can only do it during the night of the full moon. At any other time of the month, it won’t work.”

Thomas let out a wordless growl of frustration. “Great! Just great.” He bent his tail at the knee and hugged it tightly to his chest; then, after sulking in silence for a moment, he asked, “When’s the next full moon?”

“A few days,” said Clio. She gave Thomas a sympathetic smile and added, “Trust me, I’m just as eager as you are!”

Thomas smiled back. Sometimes he forgot that the mermaid was pretty much stuck in the same boat as him, sexually speaking. “Isn’t there _anything_ we can do in the meanwhile? Some way to—to pleasure each other, even if we can’t go all the way?”

“I mean, we can still fool around,” said Clio. “Just don’t expect it to _go_ anywhere.”

Thomas was desperate. “I’m game if you are,” he said.

And so Clio embraced Thomas, and she kissed him, passionately, hungrily—and Thomas kissed her back, fervent in his unslaked lust. At one point—Thomas wasn’t sure how long it had been, his mind was lost in a haze of desire now—Clio stopped their renewed makeout session and said, “In the water. It’ll be more comfortable.” And so they both left the beach and descended into the deepest part of the lagoon together, where they once again held each other close and resumed their frenzied, eager kissing. Slowly they sank, drifting down to the sandy seabed at the lagoon-bottom.

Some minutes later, Clio gasped and breathily murmured, “I want you, Thomas—so bad. Kiss my breasts—please?”

Thomas gladly attacked Clio’s glorious tits with his mouth, lavishing his attention on her erect nipples, licking and sucking at a pace that started slowly at first, but then ever-so-gradually ramped up to fierce and impatient. Thomas wanted to give Clio however much pleasure he could; and Clio wanted exactly that from Thomas. She leaned back and luxuriated in the incredible sensation of her beloved triton’s mouth on her breasts—and at the same time, she used her fingers and thumbs to gently tease at Thomas’s nipples, driving him absolutely wild with arousal.

But eventually, the cold, hard reality of Clio’s fishy physiology asserted itself, and inevitably, she was reduced to gasping and quivering, not with orgasm, but with overstimulation. In the end, she had to _beg_ Thomas to stop suckling at her boobs—after which she immediately turned the tables on him, grinning wickedly and worshiping Thomas’s pecks with her lips and tongue in largely the same way that he’d attended to hers. She would clamp down on one of his nipples with her lips and tease at the hardened nub with rapid flicks of her tongue, while at the same time playing with the other nipple using her hand. In short order, Thomas too was begging for a release that simply would not come—because, being a merman not presently undergoing the mating-cycle, _he_ could not come.

Having both driven each other to the limits of their sexual frustration, the two merpeople—the siren and the triton—had no choice but to give up. Exhausted and disappointed—but somehow feeling closer and more affectionate towards each other than they had at any point before now, because in some sense this was the first time that they’d truly attempted to _make love_ —Thomas and Clio embraced on the seabed and went to sleep together in each other’s arms.

* * *

The next morning, Thomas was awakened by Clio, who presented him with a dead mackerel that she’d only just caught and killed, and a handful of edible kelp. She was nervous as she watched Thomas eat breakfast; he could tell, and so he asked her, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my sisters,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “They should have been back by now, and I’m starting to worry about them.”

“Should we go and look for them?” asked Thomas.

“I… I hate to say it,” said Clio, “but you’re still new to being a merman, and you’d only slow me down. Could you stay here at the lagoon and wait for us to come back, please-please-please-oh-please? I promise I’ll make it back before the full moon!”

Thomas chuckled at that and said, “Well, as long as it’s a _promise_ …”

“Thank you!” said Clio, throwing her arms around Thomas and hugging him tightly. “Now remember, stay here, in and around the lagoon, where it’s safe! I think I’d die from grief if you got eaten by a shark—”

“I promise,” said Thomas, holding up one arm and making the “Scout’s honor” gesture. He certainly had no desire whatsoever to be eaten by sharks.

With that, she peppered his face with gentle kisses and then swam out of the lagoon, off to search the wide-open ocean for her sister sirens, Calliope and Terpsichore.

And Thomas was left alone with very little to do, other than lounge in the lagoon; explore the waters around the small deserted island; and bask in the sun as he lazed on the island’s sandy, white beaches.

* * *

Eventually, Thomas settled upon a nice, private little stretch of beach, on the opposite side of the island from the lagoon. There was a grove of palm-trees close to the shoreline here, which provided some nice shade from the midday sun. Here, Thomas decided, was the perfect place to just… relax, and think about what he wanted to do, given the extraordinary circumstances that had recently taken over his life.

At one point during his idle and mostly uneventful afternoon, he thought that he heard a rustling in the bushes near the beach. Some local wildlife, perhaps? Thomas hoped that it was nothing dangerous, like a wild boar. But then, if the island had fauna like that, surely Clio would have warned him about it, right? Well whatever it was, it didn’t show itself to Thomas, and it didn’t bother him again for the rest of that day.

As evening crept near, and the shadows of the palm-trees lengthened, Thomas noticed that his tail was starting to feel rather _dried out_ —instead of producing a layer of fishy mucus, his scales were beginning to feel a bit, well, _flaky_. So he retreated back to the water and—after chasing himself down a marlin for dinner—he returned to the safety of the lagoon.

Thomas allowed himself to float gently down to the seabed there, enjoying the solitude and the stillness of the waters in this place. It was nice; it was peaceful. It was very private—and just then, Thomas realized that he hadn’t yet really taken the time to get to _know_ himself—to explore his new body and learn how everything worked. Perhaps, with Clio off searching for her sisters, this was the perfect opportunity to just kick back and figure things out, in a no-pressure situation?

Thomas started things off by feeling around his fishtail, just below his waist. He’d had his tail for a few days now, but it was still unfamiliar territory. He could feel the sensation of his hands running over his scales, but it was a dull sort of feeling, less acute than when he touched his skin. Under the water, his scales also felt slick and slimy again, but for whatever reason, that part didn’t gross Thomas out quite like he felt that it ought to.

He reached around and grabbed at his backside—something that Clio had definitely done plenty of during her and Thomas’s ill-fated makeout session yesterday. He still had buttocks of a sort, but of course they were covered in scales, the cleft in between them filled in with flesh—feeling along that depression offered no kind of noteworthy sensation, and he no longer had a butthole back there.

So Thomas turned his attention back to the front of his tail. His scales were a shimmering crimson, and kind of cool to look at—if he varied the angle, he could see rainbow reflections of the sunlight that made it down into the depths of the lagoon-waters. But the really important question—the thing that had Thomas so hesitant that he was actually holding his breath, a fact that he hadn’t even realized until his gills suddenly flared and let out a small flutter of bubbles—was, what did he have for genitals now?

It was a plain fact that yesterday, while Thomas had been fooling around with Clio, the two merpeople had done plenty of bumping and grinding their groin-scales together, and the mermaid had kissed and licked at Thomas’s scale-covered crotch to no avail. Thomas hadn’t felt a thing there. (Of less concern to him, though still noteworthy, was the fact that he hadn’t felt the urge to pee—not even once—since he’d become a merman.) At last, however, curiosity overcame trepidation, and Thomas gathered his courage and started poking around.

At first, it seemed like there was nothing more to be found there than a flat surface of scales. But that didn’t make any sort of sense to Thomas: merman or not, magical being or not, he still had biological functions, right? He was still a _male_ creature—right? Surely, there had to be _something_ there.

A discreet probing finger soon made apparent the location of two orifices, Thomas’s urogenital vent above and his anus below. The first opening was about a handspan below his waistline—roughly where his dick used to be—and the second was a further handspan lower than that down the front of his tail. Both openings were quite tiny, though it was possible to pry either one of them open a little bit. Neither one was big enough to admit even a pinky-finger, at least not without risking the possibility that Thomas might be injuring himself, so he didn’t dwell on _that_ possibility for very long. Regardless, feeling at the scales that surrounded both orifices proved rather conclusively that they lacked any manner of interesting sensation, erogenous or ticklish or otherwise. They weren’t sensitive _at all_ , which Thomas found immensely disheartening.

As Thomas took the time to examine his own anatomy, he suddenly realized that, in terms of external structures, there really weren’t all that many differences between a mermaid and a merman below the waist. Above the waist, sure, Clio had lovely curves and a fantastic pair of tits, whereas Thomas had the well-developed musculature of a college athlete. But from the waist down, they were more or less anatomically the same, apart from the simple fact that Clio’s genital vent was made to dispense roe, and Thomas’s, milt. Perhaps it wasn’t rational, but that thought had Thomas suddenly worried: he might have still been _male_ , but could he really still call himself a _man_ in any meaningful sense of the word?

It was just about then, as he was prodding around at the scales on either side of his genital slit, that Thomas noticed something else about his fish-groin. It wasn’t quite as perfectly flat as he had at first supposed. There was, in fact, a _bulge_ there, albeit only a very slight one, so slight that he very nearly missed it altogether, a little bit below his milt-slit. Thomas poked at it; the sensation was unmistakable. His testicles were in there somewhere, roughly where they ought to have been, though Thomas had no real way to tell just how deeply down underneath his scales they were buried. He tried to push down on the bulge, to maybe wiggle his balls around inside of his tail just a bit. That… didn’t feel half bad, although it was hardly the same thing as having his nutsack cupped in a woman’s hand, or better yet, taken into her mouth.

But it was something: a place to start. And after a few minutes of this pleasant self-ministration, Thomas actually found himself getting properly excited.

 _Well how about that_ , he thought, one hand drifting up to play with his now-hardening nipple, while the other fidgeted with his flesh-imprisoned balls. _Mermen can masturbate._

Over the next several minutes, Thomas’s hands were divided between rubbing his scale-armored groin and teasing his own chest. _Something_ —he couldn’t say what—was definitely building, but it was very slow going and the momentum was difficult to maintain. He kept reaching little peaks of arousal, only to bottom out again and feel like he was starting all over again. This frustrating experience, combined with the fresh memory of yesterday’s sex-play with Clio, had Thomas hesitating to even hope… could this actually go anywhere?

The answer came eventually, when Thomas’s nipples began to grow extra-sensitive and painful-pleasurable to the touch. He hit upon the idea of using his fish-slime—there was plenty of that; all he had to do was reach down and run his fingers across his scales to get them coated—as a lubricant. But even that clever tactic only served to delay the inevitable. Thomas soon hit a wall that he couldn’t break through—reached a plateau that he couldn’t climb over. He was horny, he was aroused, he was painfully overstimulated—but try as he might, there was nothing for it. He just couldn’t come.

Once again, he was forced to throw in the towel. He wanted to scream; he very nearly started crying. Having been denied the simple relief of a self-administered sexual climax, Thomas could do nothing more that night besides lie there on the lagoon-bed, hating himself, hating his situation, and trying not to dwell on just how unbelievably goddamned randy and unsatisfied he was feeling as he slowly drifted off to sleep alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Another couple of days passed. Thomas spent them alone, and he discovered to his dismay that in addition to being horny—more and more frustratingly blue-balled with each passing day, in fact—he was also terribly lonely. He missed having Clio around. He tried to rationalize it away, to tell himself that what he missed was human contact in general. But there was some small part of him that he refused to acknowledge, some piece of his psyche that was most definitely developing feelings for the mermaid who had changed him.

One night, though, Thomas’s solitude came to an abrupt end, when he swam into the lagoon well after sunset and found the whole place lit up by moonlight. The face of the full moon was reflected on the lagoon’s still and glassy surface, and the sound of a siren-song—a wordless, three-part harmony—drifted through the lazy air. There, sitting together on the beach, were all three mermaids—Clio, Calliope, and Terpsichore—the three sister-sirens of the coven, arms out, bosoms heaving, beckoning to Thomas.

Thomas swam ashore and made his presence known. As he beached himself and dragged his tail across the sand, he got a good look at Clio’s sisters, and they at him. They didn’t bear any sort of family resemblance to Clio. Calliope had dark eyes, black hair done up in plaits and braids, and skin of a rich brown tone. Her breasts were even bigger than her sisters’, though somehow remarkably gravity-defiant, with large chocolate-brown nipples; and her tail was a deep, cerulean blue. Terpsichore had green eyes, hair that was long and straight and platinum-blonde, and a cute round face with features that suggested either Japanese or Korean ancestry. The scales on her tail were of a brilliant golden color; and her skin was moderately tanned, contrasting with both Calliope’s brown and Clio’s fair. With her perky DD-size breasts, Terpsichore was actually the most modestly-endowed of all three sirens!

The mermaids let their song die down, and Calliope and Terpsichore favored Thomas with charming and inviting smiles as he approached them. Thomas, for his part, found it curious that these three sirens called each other “sister” while also appearing so different—it must have been the case that they weren’t blood-relatives at all, he supposed, and that belonging to the same coven was what counted as sisterhood to them. Then again, they _had_ all been named for Greek muses…

“Good evening, ladies,” said Thomas, turning on the charm. “My name is Thomas, and I’ll be your triton for this evening.”

“Calliope. You can call me Cally.”

“I'm Terpsichore, but I prefer to go by Cory.”

With introductions out of the way, Clio asked, “Well, sisters, how do you like our new husband?”

Cally reached out a hand and felt at Thomas’s muscular arms and chest. “I think you did well, sister.”

“Was it as fun as the rumors say, changing him into a merman?” asked Cory, sounding perhaps a bit too eager.

Clio sighed fondly at the memory and said, “It was… oh, I don’t think I’ll ever experience such pleasure again in my life! But hopefully, tonight will come close.”

“This is it, then?” asked Thomas, sitting himself up on his butt in front of the girls. “The night of the full moon?” He had to admit it; he was excited. Dick or no dick, the sight of these three naked, nubile fish-girls had his heart beating quickly, there was no question of that.

“It sure is, handsome,” said Cory. “It’s just a shame that we can only do this every twenty-eight days…”

“That _is_ a shame,” Thomas agreed. “I sure do hope it’s worth it.”

“Oh, I think you’ll enjoy yourself plenty,” said Cally. “After all, each of us sirens can only lay eggs _once_ tonight, and then we’re done. Whereas you, being a triton…” she let her voice trail off, and the implication went unspoken.

 _Well,_ thought Thomas, _that at least sounds encouraging._

“Enough prattle,” said Clio. “I’ve been waiting too long for this. I found him; I get to have him first!”

“Ooh, that’s not fair!” complained Cory. “You’ve already had days and days with him!”

“Yeah,” said Cally, “you’ve already had a go at him—probably more than one, knowing you. Let one of us take a turn!”

But Clio fixed her gaze on Thomas and said, “Let the lord of the sea decide. It’s a triton’s right to choose, after all!”

Thomas responded by offering his hand to Clio. “How do we do this?” he asked.

“Just follow me,” the fair siren answered. Her coven-sisters pouted, but she just stuck her tongue out at them and led Thomas back down to the lagoon’s edge. Just before they dove in, Clio looked back over her shoulder at Cally and Cory and suggested, “Why don’t you two come along and warm each other up while Thomas and I are mating?”

Cally rolled her eyes and snarked, “Are you sure we won’t be intruding?”

“Positive,” said Thomas. “Unless, that is, you don’t want me to watch you girls getting it on—because, let me tell you, seeing that would be a _major_ turn-on…”

“Come on; let’s do it!” Cory whined. “You’re not bored with me, are you, sis?”

“No, I’m not bored with you,” said Cally, though her voice lacked conviction. “I’m just… really excited to finally mate for real, and not just be mixing eggs with my sister. You know what I mean?”

“We _all_ feel that way,” said Cory. “Say; we’ve never played at mating with a triton watching us before! That’s kind of exciting too!”

“Yeah, I guess that does sound pretty hot…” said Cally. “All right, we’re coming.” With that, the other two sirens followed Clio and Thomas into the water.

* * *

Clio searched the seabed on the bottom of the lagoon, until she came to a spot where a bowl-shaped depression in the sand sat surrounded by tufts of soft, green seaweed. It was large enough to comfortably accommodate all four merfolk if they cuddled closely together, or just Clio and Thomas with some elbow-room. “Right here,” said Clio, her voice thick with desire and anticipation. “This looks perfect!”

Before Thomas could ask, “Now what?”, Clio pulled him into her arms and kissed him deeply, almost forcefully. It was powerful and possessive, the siren claiming her triton mate as well and truly _hers_ , and to Thomas it was an enormous fucking turn-on. He responded in kind, sliding his tongue into Clio’s mouth to dance with hers, and running his hands from her lovely red hair, down her fair neck (tickling her gills as he went) and her smooth back, down to her waist where skin very abruptly and jarringly became fish-scales.

“Thomas,” Clio whimpered, more than just a hint of desperation in her voice, “I think I love you.” Thomas didn’t say anything back—he couldn’t; he didn’t yet know how he truly felt, so he didn’t have the words. But he did continue to French-kiss Clio, driving her to the heights of physical passion achievable with only lips and tongue and soft caresses above the waist. Their bodies were crushed together, Clio’s impressive breasts pushed up against Thomas’s chest; and their tails rubbed together as if in a feverish attempt, however impossible, to join together as one. Thomas ground his nigh-featureless merman pelvis against the mermaid’s similarly barren groin, and she moaned into his mouth. Soon, Thomas felt a pleasant warmth coming from deep within the core of his tail, from his balls, trapped and inaccessible underneath layers of scales and muscle though they were.

Even though it was the night of the full moon and the height of the mating cycle for merfolk, the sensation was merely pleasant. It was enjoyable enough, but it didn’t feel anywhere near as pleasurable as human intercourse did. It simply couldn’t. Nevertheless, Thomas wasn’t one to give up without a fight. Clio might have had nothing but a flat patch of scales where he would have wished to find a vulva and a clitoris—but he would be damned if he didn’t try his level best to make her feel like a real woman again. Here and now, it didn’t matter to Thomas how futile his efforts might prove in the end.

Thomas’s lips momentarily broke away from Clio’s, and he gazed affectionately into her eyes, which were glassy and half-lidded. He happened to glance over Clio’s shoulder then, and he spotted Cally and Cory floating nearby, locked together in an erotic embrace—their tails thrashing, their flukes slapping together, their lips locked. Each siren had her hands on the other’s breasts, so that they could simultaneously grope one another’s mounds and tease at their pebble-hard nipples with languorous, circling motions of their thumbs. _God damn_ , thought Thomas when he saw what kind of a display they were putting on for him—and indeed, it was purely for the merman’s benefit that they were acting so, merely petting and teasing each other for show, but not really trying to induce climax. They both wanted to save their eggs for the main event—for when Cally and Cory would each get to take their own turn with their triton.

Clio drew Thomas’s attention back to her when she suddenly groped at his scaly butt-cheeks and gave them a playful squeeze. Thomas responded by leaning forward and gently nibbling on Clio’s earlobe, causing her to shudder from the sensation. He then moved his lips down to her neck, and as he did so, his hands moved up across her body, from the slick scales on the front of her fish-tail, up to cup her breasts. “You,” he whispered, finally thinking of something truthful he could say, “are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with.” While he kissed at Clio’s neck, his tongue lightly brushed across one of her sensitive gill-slits; and at the same time, he started rolling her nipples between his forefingers and thumbs.

Clio gasped (letting loose a burst of bubbles) and cried out Thomas’s name, clutching him tightly against her. Thomas chuckled at that reaction, and a short moment later, he lowered himself down along her body so that he could suck on one of her nipples while playing with the other. Pretty soon, the mermaid was breathing rapidly, her chest heaving and her gill-slits fluttering open and closed, and she started crying out with a steady, mewling keen. Her fishtail locked at the knee and her flukes went rigid underneath her, her whole body suddenly going ramrod straight—Thomas was driving her absolutely mad with ardor.

Now Clio was quivering with pleasure, and Thomas realized that he had driven her right up to the edge—up to that frustrating limit that they hadn’t been able to push beyond during their previous attempt to make love. But before he could decide on what he might do to perhaps push her over, Clio lowered herself down so that her face was once again level with Thomas’s. She gave him a coy grin and said, “It’s your turn, beloved,” before kissing him again. Thomas suddenly realized that Clio was now teasing _his_ nipples with light brushes of her fingertips, and it sent a jolt of arousal like wildfire rushing down to his piscine loins. He leaned into Clio’s ardent kiss and continued to play with her breasts, and their mutual nipple-stimulation eventually brought them both up to a now-familiar brink.

Thomas had experienced this twice now since becoming a merman. He knew what always inevitably came next: the limit of his tolerance, a painful feeling of overstimulation in his nipples, and a disappointing comedown from the plateau.

Clio’s cheeks and breasts were flushed red: her nipples still hard, her areolas swollen. Thomas supposed that she must have been starting to approach the same oversensitive state that he was, but she didn’t show any signs of stopping him—

Until suddenly, she did exactly that. She stopped. Her hands came off of Thomas's chest, and they wrapped around his wrists, halting his ministrations. And Thomas’s heart sank—but only for a moment, because when he opened his eyes and looked into Clio’s, he saw that hers were still unfocused and foggy with arousal, and her smile was one of absolute bliss. She then drew his hands down and placed them on the front of her tail, on her groin, and Thomas was amazed to discover that her tiny opening there was, well, _open._ “You’re amazing,” she said in a breathy voice. “I’m already ready!”

“Ready?” asked Thomas.

“To spawn,” clarified Clio. They shared another long, tender kiss; and then Clio lowered herself down into the sandy depression, so that she now hovered just above the sea-bed. At the same time, she pushed Thomas even lower down, so that his head moved past her breasts, past her belly, down to her egg-vent. Thomas very quickly realized what Clio was directing him to do—though, given his past experiences playing with his own sensationless genital-vent, he wasn’t sure what possible purpose it could serve—but he acceded anyway. Hesitantly at first, gingerly, he oh-so-carefully brought his tongue to lap at the scaly exterior of Clio’s fishy opening…

Compared to human anatomy, Clio’s was, in all honesty… well, _boring_ wasn’t quite the right word to use, because Thomas was anything but _bored_ right now. _Simpler_ would be a better way to put it. There were no folds, nothing resembling lips, and certainly nothing even remotely like a clitoris. It was just a plain opening in the scales, and all that Thomas could really do to it was to either lick the outside, or dip his tongue the very short way that it would go into the tiny hole. And when he finally did that—parted open the minuscule slit and let the tip of his tongue brush against its mucus-coated inner walls—Clio shuddered, grabbed at Thomas’s head to keep their relative positions steady, and threw her own head back as she cried out in ecstasy.

 _Now this is more like it!_ thought Thomas to himself, grinning internally. _We’re not just fooling around anymore; we’re actually doing it!_

When he’d still been human, Thomas had considered himself a respectably skilled and experienced lover. He knew how to go down on a woman. But a mermaid posed a different challenge altogether: for Clio, it was a matter of keeping her riding that edge, teetering at the pleasurable brink—no easy task, given that her fish-genitalia were designed solely for the purpose of expelling eggs, and they simply did _not_ have anywhere near the concentration of nerve-endings that a human clit or G-spot did. And so Thomas kept at it, marveling at Clio’s very womanlike reaction to his giving head (and also at the very _odd_ sensation of eating a woman out but not also experiencing a sensation of urgency, or even so much as the slightest hint of stiffness or moisture coming from where his manhood used to be). As he licked and probed with his tongue, Thomas also reached up to once again massage Clio’s breasts and to tease the pebble-hard little nubs that crowned them—and _that_ was what finally pushed her over the edge.

Of a sudden, Clio thrust herself away from Thomas and spun about in the water where she was floating, so that her belly faced the seabed, her opening pointed downward at the nadir of the bowl-shaped little valley in the sand. The o-face that she made as she climaxed was the first that Thomas had seen in several days, and it was a beautiful sight for very sore eyes. He even found it endearing when her gasping cries of passion gave way to a decidedly unladylike groan, and he saw a cloud of— _something_ —“poof” into the water underneath her. It looked like an emission of some kind of fluid from her opening, a milky orange in color, and as it cleared away, Thomas could see a pile of little round orbs, also orange and about the size of shooter-marbles, settling into the depression.

Clio’s orgasm continued, and with each fresh contraction of her internal muscles, another few eggs spilled out of her middle and into the sandy nest. Then, just as her climax was petering out, Clio opened her eyes again, and her gaze locked onto Thomas. There was a mix of hunger and satisfaction showing in her expression that he had never quite seen anywhere else before.

Once the last of her eggs were out, Clio then pulled herself back into Thomas’s arms; only now, she moved with a pronounced and obvious lethargy. The egg-laying had sapped her stamina considerably. But she nevertheless began to fiercely pepper her mate’s body all over with kisses of love and gratitude. “That was—I can’t even—you were _very_ good, beloved!”

“Glad I could be of service?” said Thomas lightly while returning her kisses. He had actually managed to satisfy the mermaid! He was starting to feel more like a man again—or at least, like as much of man as he felt he could be while still not having an actual penis. But those glum concerns aside, he was more than ready for Clio to return the favor—which was exactly the topic she broached next.

“How about it, husband?” she asked, her voice low and sultry. “Would you like to cum on my eggs?”

Not having a better answer on his lips, Thomas just nodded dumbly, as if to say, “yes, please”; and then Clio was suddenly all over him, and she began to pleasure him enthusiastically, lavishing his body with much the same sort of attention that he had only minutes ago been giving to her. She used many of the same techniques, which wasn't all that surprising, given how similar mermaid and merman anatomies really were when you got right down to it: she kissed at every little place on Thomas’s human half that was in any small way an erogenous zone, paying particular attention to the gill-slits in his neck and the now painfully-hard and very sensitive nipples that adorned his manly pecks. She made love to Thomas with absolute abandon, driving him closer and closer to a climax that she knew he could actually achieve now—now that the full moon was out, and the time was right. Tonight, they would mate; tonight, their love would be consummated. There would be no more failure, no more giving up—

And God _damn_ , was Thomas ever tempted to give up now, because the feeling of the mermaid's gifted tongue on his chest had him all too quickly gasping for seawater, just as he had done to Clio earlier. It was _so_ damn good, so _fucking_ amazing, and he was at that plateau, and he also knew that just this alone wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly get him all the way there—

He could barely think now. Clio's lips and tongue had Thomas in a daze of overwhelming and frustrating pleasure. And then she began to kiss her way down his chest, down across his toned abs, momentarily pausing at his navel to give it a playful little lick. (Through the haze, that briefly got Thomas wondering: if merfolk were egg-layers, how and why did they even have navels? Did he even care?) Then she moved down to where Thomas’s skin transitioned to scales, and she trailed kisses along his waistline. She planted one hand firmly on his ass, pinning Thomas’s writhing body to hers, while her other hand reached up and continued to casually flick at his nipples. But her tongue: that, she brought down to Thomas’s fishy opening, to his now slightly-gaping genital-vent, and she started to lick and tease at it, and to dip the tip of her tongue the very minute distance that it would go inside. And it was fucking _incredible_. It wasn’t like a blowjob, and it certainly wasn’t anything like vaginal sex; but in the mental and physical state that Thomas was in now? If this was the best that he could hope for, it might just be enough.

And then, finally, after upwards of fifteen minutes on the edge of a shattering orgasm, it very suddenly, and calmly, ended. As Thomas came back to himself and his ears quit ringing, he realized that he had been gasping and crying out in pleasure as well. A milky white cloud had formed in the water around his fish-slit, and Clio was doing all that she could to waft the cloud of milt down into the nest, using gentle strokes of her flukes.

As for Thomas, he felt… satisfied. He had had release. The orgasm hadn’t actually been all that intense; quite the opposite, in fact. The release of his ejaculate into the water reminded him of nothing quite so much as a good pee after being obliged to hold it for a really long time. But it had definitely been a climax, of a sort. It had been brief and low-key and not localized to any one particular part of his body, and there was no question that it had been different from what he had been used to as a human—not perfectly fulfilling; but not wholly disappointing either.

"Well, my love?" asked Clio, grinning from ear to ear. "Was it worth it?"

Thomas didn’t really know what to say. He just grinned back at Clio—and then, all of the sudden, there was Cally, taking him by the hand and pulling him away from Clio’s nest and their newly-fertilized clutch. He was still reeling; still dazed with afterglow. He didn’t resist as Cally flicked her fins and guided him through the water, over to a different sandy depression, where Cory was already placidly floating and waiting.

“Who wants him next?” asked Cory

“Triton’s choice, remember?” said Cally.

But Thomas, who had absolutely _no_ idea how long it took for a merman to recover after “sex” (such as it was), decided that a small delay was in order. And so he swam up to Cally, pressed his lips against hers, and initiated a lazy round of making out while his body—hopefully—readied itself for more mating.


	4. Chapter 4

Cally moaned into Thomas’s mouth and pushed her tongue into his, until they were tasting each other while gloriously sucking face. At the same time, she pressed her stupendous breasts into the merman’s bare, muscled chest. Their fishtails, all slick with scales and mucus, rubbed together in a suggestive manner that quickly had Thomas feeling like he could probably go another round sooner rather than later.

The scales below their waists were sexy and slippery, but they were like armor in a way, almost (but not quite) unfeeling. To Thomas, he very nearly felt as if he still had legs, albeit legs nigh-permanently bound together—and in effect, his merman’s tail really was a kind of perfect bondage, made not from ropes or straps, but from living flesh and muscle and fish-scales, and from the fact that his dick was rendered unfeeling by virtue of its being literally _nonexistent_ rather than merely covered over. To Cally, though, this was her natural state of being; she had never known any other. She couldn’t miss having a vagina or the simple ability to spread wide her legs, because those feelings were foreign to a mermaid.

After several long, luxurious minutes of blissful making out, during which time their thrashing tailfins would occasionally slap together (a sensation that Thomas found to be more curious than erotic), he and Cally both felt their lips growing pleasantly numb, and so they broke off their extended kiss to rest for a bit. “Think you’re ready to take it up a notch?” asked Cally, whose breath was now ragged from all the exertion.

Cory, who now sat perched on the edge of the empty nest that she intended to share with her sister, propped her chin up with one hand and said, “Oh, he’s ready.”

Thomas nodded. “I can’t explain it, but tonight I feel like I could just keep going and going—”

“Make that _coming and coming_ ,” said Cory with an adorable giggle.

“That’s the full moon for you,” said Cally. “Moonlight, music, and sex: that’s pretty much all there is to siren-magic.”

Thomas didn’t have anything to add to that, so he decided to put his newfound stamina to good use. He embraced Cally and held her close, kissed at the gills on her neck, and asked thickly, “How do you want me to get your eggs out?”

Cally, with her eyelids low and a mischievous smile on her face, brought her hands up underneath her breasts and cupped them, holding them out to Thomas, offering them to her triton to do with as he pleased. “Start with these.”

Without a word of complaint, Thomas obliged her request. He felt at her boobs with his rough but agile hands—the hands of a quarterback and weight-lifter, an athlete’s hands—and then teasing her nipples with soft, slow circles of his thumbs until they became hard little pebbles under his touch.

Cally, her eyes shut tight and her body now shivering with delight, squeaked in pleasure as Thomas worked her breasts. Then, before she knew it, his lips were on her left nipple, gently suckling, his tongue playing a little figure-eight on the nub. Cally threw her head back and gasped, “Poseidon!—Oh, Thomas, _yes_!”

 _Well_ , thought Thomas as he switched to her other tit, _she certainly seemed to like that!_

He had one arm around Cally’s tail now, his hand pinned firmly on the solid lump of scale-covered muscle that was the dark-skinned mermaid’s magnificent ass. He released her boobs and tried moving lower down on her body, kissing his way down her belly—“That tickles,” said Cally with a giggle—and down to the scales on the front of her tail.

Thomas kept going at it, licking and kissing the non-crotch at the front of her fishtail, until at last he located Cally’s roe-slit. He ran his tongue along the scales outside the slit, and the mermaid shivered—but then, when he tried to part it open and push the tip of his tongue inside, she halted his advances. “Stop,” she said, disappointment evident in her voice. “That—it doesn’t feel like anything. Not yet.”

Thomas looked up in surprise and met Cally’s gaze. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You went for the finish-line too fast,” said Cally, who now doubled herself over so that she could touch both of her hands to Thomas’s cheeks as she kissed him again. “I want your mouth on my boobs again very soon. But first, I want to see what I can make _you_ feel.”

And she did exactly that, starting by kissing Thomas’s neck, right on his gills, causing a shiver to run through the merman’s body.

“Yeah,” said Thomas breathily. “That felt—ooh, yeah, baby, keep that up—” Thomas’s breath hitched as he spoke words of encouragement. Cally giggled again and kissed her way from Thomas’s neck down to his collarbone, down to his chest, where she began to tease his nipples, one with her tongue and the other with her thumb and forefinger. Thomas closed his eyes, threw his head back, and gasped, crying out for God in much the same way that Cally had invoked Poseidon mere moments earlier.

Cally grinned wickedly. It pleased the siren, to see her new husband reacting to her kisses and caresses like this. She redoubled her efforts, kissing ferociously at Thomas’s chest—only, she went too far in her enthusiasm and very quickly ran up against Thomas’s frustrating limit. Even during the mating cycle, the merfolk had to be careful—they needed to take things _slowly_ —lest one partner overwhelm the other. Thomas felt his nipples become badly overstimulated, too sensitive to feel any more pleasure for a while, and he had to beg Cally to stop.

“Wh—whoa there,” he breathed. “Just—quit it for a sec—cut it out—”

“Damn,” said Cally, releasing Thomas’s right nipple from her lips with a sucking _pop_. “I thought I had you getting close already.”

“Not quite,” Thomas gasped. “Just give me—a few minutes—” Then, while he allowed his poor, overworked nipples to recover, he returned the favor to Cally by attacking her tits with renewed vigor, lavishing upon them pretty much the same treatment that the siren had just given to his pecks. By this time, Thomas had figured out that he needed to take it _very_ slowly, so as to avoid overdoing it. He went about the business of worshiping Cally’s breasts as languidly as he could manage, with all the restraint and finesse that he could muster, alternating between gentle nips and long licks on the one breast, and then fervent suckling and rapid tongue-flicks on the other.

In this manner, occasionally switching things up, using his mouth at one time and then his hands at another, but always careful to slow down before speeding things up again, Thomas skillfully drove Calliope to the brink of climax, just from breast-play alone.

Finally, Cally arched her back, thrust the groin of her fishtail forward, and tossed her head back. “Thomas,” she gasped, “Thomas, I—I—I— _ooooooh, I'm coming_!” All at once, several distinct sensations rippled through the mermaid’s body, and she moaned along with the sudden rush of pleasure. She felt waves of orgasmic release, but also muscular contractions in the core of her tail, followed by the familiar sensation of eggs gushing forth in mass quantities from her tiny genital-vent.

Thomas was actually surprised at how quickly he had managed to bring Calliope to finish. She doubled over and thrashed about in the water, writhing and wriggling in the throes of her pleasure, doing her best to aim the front of her fishtail at the nest as she expelled her clutch of little bright-orange orbs. As the opaque cloud of birthing-fluid slowly dispersed away, and the eggs settled down into the bottom of the sandy depression, Cally’s core-muscles contracted again, a few more eggs came shooting out, and these aftershocks repeated a few times until at last the mermaid’s fishy abdominal cavity was entirely emptied—leaving Cally utterly spent.

Cory, who was still sitting beside the nest, cheered and applauded and flipped her flipper appreciatively, having very much enjoyed the show. Cally, meanwhile, drifted down to the seabed beside her nest, almost too tired to move; but she sighed with contentment and lazily reached out to her clutch of eggs, gently running her fingers through the mass of adorable orange orbs and staring at them in mild fascination. To be sure, she had laid eggs before, lots of times, with the help of her sisters; but this time was different. _These_ eggs would be fertilized. Though the chance was minuscule, the potential was there: any one of these eggs could one day hatch into a mer-child. That was novel; that was something interesting. “Can’t wait to meet you,” she said quietly to her clutch.

To Thomas, that was a profound little moment—but only a fleeting one, because just as soon as Cally was out of the way, there was Cory, ready to demand her own turn. “Now me!” she said, ready and willing for the merman to take her. “Get my eggs out!”

Thomas tried to protest. “But I haven’t had the chance to fertilize Cally’s—hmph.” He was stopped when Cory darted up to him with a flick of her fins and kissed him full on the lips, invading his mouth with her tongue. Thomas made a small noise of surprise; Cory lewdly rolled her tongue around his, all the while moaning with manic glee.

“My turn,” she insisted. “Any objections?”

Thomas shook his head “no”, and Cory rewarded him by kissing him again. This only served to make Thomas even more hot-and-bothered than he already was; Cally had driven him up to the brink already, but now that he had come down from it once again, he felt that it was actually _his_ turn. He wanted to cum. To that end, he decided that he would do something that he felt might be a little naughty: he would give the assertive Miss Terpsichore her turn, oh yes; but he would go about it by finishing her off as quickly as humanly—sirenly, tritonly—possible.

He started things off by lightly kissing Cory all over her body for a few sweet and tender minutes, only to stop her when she tried to turn the tables and kiss him back. He looked her in the eye with an intent gaze, and she answered back with a curious look that seemed to ask, _Just what are you up to?_ Thomas then kissed all over the human half of Cory’s body more aggressively, for several more long and agonizing minutes— _agony_ being the operative word, particularly once Thomas turned his attention fully over to Cory’s breasts. He focused on her nipples, teasing her and suckling her, once again varying his technique and his speed, just as he’d done with Cally. He used his newly mastered skill at pleasuring cuntless fish-maidens to drive her towards the edge, while at the same time gently brushing his fingertips ever-so-gently across the scales that surrounded her roe-vent.

And sure enough, after about twenty minutes of this luxuriant making out, boob-petting, vent-stroking, and nipple-play, Terpsichore quaked and shivered, repeatedly cried out Thomas’s name, and started to expel her eggs into the nest—where they mingled together with Calliope’s, until there was no chance of separating them back out again or distinguishing one mermaid’s eggs from the other’s. Once the last few quivering vibrations of mermaid-orgasm had left Cory’s body, she moaned in contentment, hugged her arms together underneath her boobs in a way that pushed them together and up enticingly, and gave them a squeeze. “Mmm… that was… just incredible, Thomas,” she said as she slowly drifted down to the seabed and came to rest at Cally’s side. Then she gave a toothy smile and exclaimed, “I’m so happy we have a triton!”

Thomas looked down at the hopelessly mixed-together clutches of eggs now filling the nest, and he scratched his head. “Hey Cory, did you mean to do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“That,” said Thomas, pointing. “Use the same nest as your sister.”

“Oh; that,” said Cory. “No worries. We mix eggs all the time. How else do you think we used to spend our mating cycles before _you_ came along, huh?”

“Yeah… but say that after I fertil—” Thomas stopped himself. He really didn’t like that vocabulary. It sounded too bestial; too inhuman. “After I jizz on these eggs, and some of them hatch, how will you tell which, uh, mer-kid belongs to which mom?”

“We’re a _coven_ ,” said Cally, who seemed to be regaining some of her stamina as she broke into the conversation. “Sister-sirens; sister-wives. You’re the father; we’re _all_ the mothers. Whose _fuck-hole_ the egg came out of doesn’t matter!”

“Then why did Clio keep her nest separate from you guys’?” asked Thomas.

“Oh, she’s just being a _selfish_ shellfish,” said Cory. “She probably wants _you_ all to herself!”

“That isn’t fair,” said Cally sternly. (Chastised, Cory looked down at her fins.) “Besides,” Cally continued, her voice small and sad, “it doesn’t matter anyway. Chances are, none of these eggs will hatch.”

Thomas was shocked. “What!? Why not?”

“Because we’re sirens,” said Cory sadly. “Immortals. And immortals who aren’t gods have a _really_ hard time conceiving offspring.”

“It’s probably some kind natural mechanism,” said Cally in a disinterested tone. “Built-in population-control or some bollocks like that.”

“So, is there any point to me—cumming on your eggs?” asked Thomas.

Cory sat up—with difficulty; she was still extremely fatigued from laying—and waggled her eyebrows in comical fashion. “Are you saying you _don’t_ want us to make you cum?”

Thomas threw his hands up. “Didn’t say that! I didn’t say that!” he exclaimed. “I just meant… do I have to watch my aim here, or is there basically zero chance of us having any kids?”

“There’s always a _chance_ ,” said Cory.

“…But it’s probably something like one-in-a-million,” said Cally with a doleful sigh.

“It’s okay, though!” said Cory, suddenly perking up. She flicked her fin and kicked off the seabed, floating over to Thomas. She put her hands on his shoulders and said, “We’ve got all the time in the world to keep trying!” Then she kissed him, driving her tongue into his mouth. Thomas wrapped his arms around Cory’s gorgeous mermaid-body and just enjoyed the kiss, letting her rile up his libido again.

“Even _if_ we’re only able to lay-and-spray on thirteen specific nights out of each year,” said Cally cynically, who now also pushed herself up off the lagoon-floor. She came up behind Thomas and started tickling his gill-slits with soft kisses and gentle laps of her tongue, which caused the merman to shiver with delight.

The dual feeling of Cory’s tail rubbing on his crotch-scales and Cally’s breasts pressed against his back was wildly exhilarating to Thomas. Then Cory broke away from kissing him and flashed him a coy, knowing grin. Cally, meanwhile, was now floating lower behind Thomas and running her hands from his chest down to his abs. “That feels—oh,” he breathed, “ _oooooh…_ whatever that is, keep doing _that…_ ”

It was clear by now that Cally and Cory, both having laid their clutches, were fully sated; there would be no more bringing either of them to orgasm again until the next mating-cycle, four weeks from now. This was all about Thomas—about getting him to fertilize their eggs—about making the merman _cum_. The sirens each picked a nipple of his to suckle and tease, and at the same time, they lowered Thomas down so that his fishy genital-opening was positioned right over the nest and pointing directly at the pile of eggs. As Thomas felt the girls’ hot, wet tongues rolling around on his nipples, he started breathing heavily and squirming in their grasp—his tailfin wiggling uncontrollably—and he began to feel hazy and half-drunk with powerful arousal.

For whatever reason, the thrill of two stunningly beautiful mermaids simultaneously slurping at two of the most erogenous spots that Thomas still had left on his body, and their looking upward to hold his gaze together as they did so, had an intensely erotic effect. Something about it let Thomas cut loose—physically, emotionally, sexually—and simply bask in the blissful sensations. This worked wonders for his body’s ability to respond to what passed for sex among the merfolk. Just as his nipples were getting to the point where he wanted to beg Cally and Cory to stop stimulating them, Cally swam up to kiss him on the lips, and Cory lowered herself down to kiss and lick at his slit, and that pushed him right over the edge.

This orgasm was only slightly more intense than the one he’d been given by Clio, just a tiny hair closer to what he remembered from his lifetime as a human man; and it also lasted just a wee bit longer. Thomas felt the muscles around his urogenital vent contract a few times before his body was left quaking from the come-down, and he had produced yet another cloud of white fluid in the water, nearly as much as he had earlier ejaculated for Clio. Only now, the front of his tail was properly aimed, and the mer-jizz was falling straight down from the hole in his groin onto a nest full of Cally and Cory's eggs, mingling with them, possibly even giving them life.

The two mermaids then sank down to the sea-floor, where they could lie prone on the sand and peer closely at their nest in fascination and joy. Thomas almost felt as if he’d been momentarily forgotten. Almost: after a moment of watching the sperm-and-egg-mingling in action, Cally swam up and kissed Thomas again, and Cory did the same, and they both thanked him profusely—both for having fertilized their eggs, and for being their triton—which was to say, their mer-husband. “I had fun,” said Cory. “Let’s be sure and do it again sometime, lover-koi.”

In truth, Thomas still wasn’t certain that being a husband to a siren-coven was what he really wanted, though he didn’t give voice to these thoughts right now. He felt guilty for even having them, given that he had just spent most of an evening wantonly making love to these three beautiful mermaids who all called him their spouse and basically already treated him as such. Even though marriage was (apparently) a much bigger deal to humans than it was to merfolk, something that required forethought and consent and a finalizing ritual; even though he’d been changed into a merman under false pretenses and against his will.

“So,” he said, after a few quiet and companionable minutes had passed by, “what happens next?”

“For us?” said Cory. “A little well-earned rest.”

“But for you…” said Cally, “you’re a _male_. You can come again and again tonight, all night long if you want to.”

“Yep; as long as the moon stays out,” affirmed Cory. “If I were you, I’d go find Clio and take advantage. Seeing as how this is a once-a-month, special-occasion kind of affair.”

“Yeah,” said Thomas, “that sounds like a good idea. I’m, uh, gonna go find Clio.”

“Good boy,” said Cally, who then reached up and gave Thomas a playful swat on the rump.

As he swam away, Cory called out, “Come back and find one of us again once Clio’s too worn out to keep up with you! We’ll be here all night!”

Thomas smirked. Yeah; he would probably do exactly that.

* * *

It didn’t take Thomas very long to track down Clio. She was still by her own nest of fertilized mermaid-eggs, curled up on the sand nearby with her tail bent at the knee and tucked underneath her, dozing softly. She looked up when Thomas approached. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey, yourself,” said Clio. Then she immediately kicked off the lagoon-floor and swam up a little higher than Thomas, righting herself in the water and positioning her egg-vent mere inches from Thomas’s face, an obvious invitation.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “I thought you couldn’t cum again for another month.”

“I can’t,” acknowledged Clio, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to have _any_ more fun. I won’t just spend the rest of the night servicing _you_ , my triton, no matter how much I’ve fallen in love with you.”

“I—” Once again, Thomas’s words caught in his throat, and he very poignantly didn’t say “I love you” back.

Clio most certainly noticed. She pointed insistently at her vent and instructed, “Lick my—what do humans call it again? A _cunt_? Lick my fish-cunt.”

“It’s not really a cunt,” said Thomas, who nevertheless was more than happy to oblige Clio and started going down on her again. He lapped at the scales outside of her fish-slit, and Clio gasped and shivered.

She gripped at Thomas’s head, and she used that grip along with small, subtle flicks of her tailfin to keep herself in position as he pleasured her. In between ragged gasps, she said, “It’s—the closest thing—that I’ll ever have again. So it’s my fish-cunt.”

Thomas paused, looked up at Clio, and said in a tone that was half playful and half rueful, “Only if you can call _my_ little hole a fish-dick.”

Clio looked lovingly down at Thomas and said, “Do I detect a hint of resentment, my beloved?”

Thomas shrugged and kept licking. “ _You_ did this to me,” he said, trying to sound unconcerned.

Clio frowned and placed one hand on the top of Thomas’s head, stopping him from eating her out. Wordlessly, she lowered herself down to Thomas’s level, and she planted a long, wet, passionate kiss on his lips, trying to use that kiss to convey everything that she was feeling: joy; thrill; boundless love; deep apology for what she’d done to him; and a certain degree of sorry-not-sorry, non-apology, because in truth, if she had to do it all over again to have Thomas in her life, she would turn him again in a heartbeat.

After many minutes, she broke the kiss and said to Thomas earnestly, “I hope you aren’t planning on sleeping tonight, my triton—because I intend to spend the rest of this full moon diddling your beautiful fish-dick, until this lagoon is positively drowning in your seed!”

And that was exactly what happened. Thomas spent the rest of that night being brought to one (mildly disappointing letdown of a) merman almost-orgasm after another; usually by Clio alone; sometimes by one of her sisters; sometimes being double- or triple-teamed, the lone merman wrapped up within an orgiastic knot of fins, breasts, lovely feminine faces, scales of blue and gold and green, and long tresses of red and black and platinum-blonde.

The sirens pleasured Thomas until the moon set; and morning approached; and the mating cycle waned; and the old, frustrating limitations on his fish anatomy reasserted themselves, making any further orgasms just as impossible for Thomas as they were for his three mermaids.


	5. Chapter 5

More than a week later, Thomas was feeling listless and depressed. His contentment following the mating-cycle had only lasted for about three days, maybe four at the most. And a meager contentment it had been, given that a merman’s orgasms tended to be on par with the least-satisfying, lowest of the low-key orgasms ever experienced by a human male. After that all-too-short period of relief, Thomas found that his hungry, early-twenty-something human male libido had come roaring back with a vengeance. It was almost as if his new body, having received a tasty sample of carnal pleasure during the sirens’ mating-cycle, now craved a full meal that it simply couldn’t have.

Terpsichore, Calliope, and of course Clio were all more than happy to indulge Thomas’s every sexual whim in the meanwhile. But that proved to be as torturous as it was alluring—and he was not in any position to try and resist the temptation. As the days dragged by—there wasn’t really much _else_ to do around the island and the lagoon—Thomas tried everything that he could think of to enjoy something like a sex-life and perhaps achieve a climax that hadn’t been dictated by the tides or other celestial forces beyond his control. He tried to get himself off; he tried to get his mermaid brides off; but he simply couldn’t do it.

And so now, Thomas languished in a private emotional doldrum, all because it was presently sometime between day one and day twenty-seven of the current month on a lunar calendar, and therefore he couldn’t have sex.

Or rather, he and the girls could have sex—but they couldn’t hope to finish whatever they started.

On this particular morning, Thomas just wanted to be alone. He knew that if he spent all of his time around the sirens, one thing would eventually lead to another, and in less time than he cared to contemplate, one or both or all of them would wind up flopping on the beach or writhing in the lagoon-waters, consumed by lustful agony. And so he swam around to the other side of the island, to the palm grove that he considered his “private spot”, and he beached himself and rested in the shade.

Idly, Thomas reached up and scratched at the scruff of dark stubble growing on his cheek—he had to use a broken piece of _seashell_ if he wanted to shave; it wasn’t ideal—and then he started when he heard a rustle coming from the nearby bushes, followed by a very human shriek of alarm and the sound of feet running across sand.

Thomas rolled over onto his side and tried to turn his body around, so that he could get a better look at what was coming. It was at times like these that having a fishtail instead of two legs just plain _sucked._ When he finally came about, he saw that it was a young woman running towards him across the beach—a bedraggled-looking brunette, badly sunburned, wearing a skirt of banana-leaves and the tattered remains of a bikini-top. She was waving her hands over her head, hollering for attention—until she came close enough to see Thomas’s fishtail, and she froze, her voice reduced to a startled squeak, a look of utter shock on her face.

Thomas recognized her quickly enough. “Jessica!?” he cried.

It was indeed Jessica, the third of our ill-fated shipwreck victims. Once it finally dawned on her who exactly she was looking at, she was even more surprised that he was. “ _Thomas!?_ ” On the verge of freaking out, she pointed at his tail and said, “What is—what is that? _What **is** that!?_”

Thomas sat himself up into a “kneeling” position, the lower half of his tail tucked underneath him, and he put up his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “Whoa—just—slow down and let me explain, okay? Look: when the boat capsized, I got rescued by mermaids, and they, well, they _changed_ me. Turned me into one of them.”

Jessica “So… you’ve been like this since the shipwreck?” She knelt down on the sand next to Thomas, only for the realization to strike her the very next instant. “Wait—you’ve been _here_!? The entire time!?”

“Uh… yeah, pretty much,” said Thomas. “Have you really been on this teeny, little island the whole time?”

Jessica wanted to hit him. “ _Where the fuck else would I be!?_ ” she exploded.

“Okay, fair point,” said Thomas.

“But—how come I haven’t _seen_ you before now?” wailed Jessica.

“How come I haven’t seen _you_?” Thomas shot back. “I’ll tell you: it’s because you’ve been on land, and I’ve been in the water with the other mermaids!” (About two seconds too late, Thomas realized that saying “other mermaids” like that implied that he himself could be counted as a mer _maid_ , which wasn’t in any sense true; but it still didn’t do anything to help his faltering sense of manhood. His dickless physiology ensured that his masculinity was fragile enough to be hanging by a thread these days.)

This time, Jessica did hit him. She swatted him in the arm and bellowed, in such a way that her Australian accent thickened and Thomas almost couldn’t understand her, “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck on this _bloody fucking island_!? How many days it’s been since the shipwreck!?”

Thomas could only recoil from her ineffectual blows and shrug. “I don’t know—a lot? I’ve lost count. I’ve been distracted.”

“By the mermaids,” said Jessica.

“Yes,” affirmed Thomas.

“Great. That’s just fucking great! So while _you’ve_ been out frolicking with mermaids and relaxing under palm trees, _I’ve_ been fucking struggling to survive! Bloody useless goddamn seppo tourist…”

Thomas folded his arms. “I _do_ know what that word means.”

Jessica folded her arms too. “Good,” she spat. After a long, tense silence, she struck up the conversation again. “I’d assumed that you and Beth both drowned. Do you know what happened to her?”

“She _did_ drown,” said Thomas. “She’s dead.” When Jessica looked away and choked back a sob, he continued, “Were you two close?”

She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, but still she didn’t meet Thomas’s eye. “I guess? I mean, not really, but we were mates at university. Same major; a lot of the same—” She happened to glance back at Thomas then, and she paused when she noticed that he was staring at her darkly. “What is it?”

“The mermaids,” he said. “They’re sirens. They’re dangerous. They caused the storm that shipwrecked us. They killed Beth.”

Jessica gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “Are you serious!?”

Thomas nodded. “Deadly serious. Listen to me: you should stay off the beaches, and especially steer clear of the lagoon. I don’t know how the sirens would react if they found you here. I don’t know what they would do to you.”

“Do you think they might— _change_ me?” asked Jessica. “Same as they did to you?”

“I don’t think that they can,” said Thomas wistfully. “I got the sense that they could only transform men.”

“Oh, well that’s just fucking _great_ ,” pouted Jessica. “It means I’m still stuck here!”

“Hey!” Thomas snapped. “I’m just as fucking stuck here as you! It’s not like I can go back home—go back to my life! At least _you_ could still be rescued!”

“Yeah, maybe, if I got _really_ lucky!” said Jessica. “But—look at you! You’re a bloody _merman_! You can survive in the ocean now! You didn’t have to go through what I went through!”

Thomas looked down and idly traced his finger in the sand. “Yeah… I guess that’s true enough.”

After a pause, Jessica asked, “Why did you stay?”

“On the island?”

“With the mermaids. If they’re so evil, why did you stay with them?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” said Thomas. “I had to learn their way of surviving.”

“…Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Jessica fell silent again before asking, “Do you fuck them?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Do – you – fuck – the – mermaids?”

“That… is a complicated question.”

Jessica stared at Thomas before saying, “How can it be fucking complicated? It seems pretty goddamn simple to me! Just tell me if you fuck them!”

Fed up, Thomas indicated his featureless lap—it was right there for Jessica to see clearly—and growled, “With what?”

It took several seconds for Jessica to understand his meaning. Then she gawked at Thomas, jaw dropped, and stammered out, “You mean—you don’t—”

“No,” said Thomas with a roll of his eyes.

“You don’t have—there’s _nothing_ there—?”

“ _No_ ,” he repeated, his annoyance growing.

“Really—? Not even—hidden under the scales?”

“What, like a dolphin dick?” said Thomas sourly. “I fucking _wish_.”

“Then how do you—I mean, can you? I’ve always wondered how mermaids… how _do_ mermaids reproduce, anyway?”

“Fish eggs,” answered Thomas. His tone was somewhere between gloomy and nonchalant.

“Ew,” said Jessica with a small shudder. Then, suddenly curious, she asked, “Does it… I mean, does it still _feel_ like—anything?”

“Kinda depends on the day,” said Thomas with a small, sad smile.

“Aha!” said Jessica, pointing in his face. “So you _do_ fuck the mermaids! Or—fuh—what would you even call it, anyway?”

“ _Fertilizing_ ,” said Thomas with evident distaste.

“I reiterate: _ew_ ,” said Jessica. She placed a gentle hand on Thomas’s tail and said, “Oh, you poor dear! You poor, poor, gorgeous, hunky merman—” Before ether of them knew what was happening, Jessica had straddled Thomas’s scaly lap and thrown her arms around his neck. Now she was kissing him and heatedly grinding her crotch into his not-a-crotch.

“Jessica,” stammered Thomas, halfheartedly trying to break the kiss, “why are you—hmph—acting like this?”

“I don’t know,” she said between kisses. “You’re just so fucking—goddamn sexy—I don’t think I can help myself.”

“Sucks that we—can’t actually—have sex then,” said Thomas. Jessica didn’t stop necking with him, and as they kissed, Thomas wondered at her behavior. Why was she acting this way? Was he, as a merman, somehow casting some kind of spell over her without his even knowing it?

An even more worrisome thought came unbidden to his mind: had the sirens done that to _him_? Was that why he’d always been so favorably-disposed toward them whenever they were around? Entirely despite of the awful things that they’d done to him—having stolen away his identity, his masculinity, his sexuality, his freedom, and his life? It was a disturbing thought, but it made a strange sort of sense, especially given how clearly Thomas was thinking now that he was away from the mermaids…

Well, for a certain limited value of “thinking clearly”. As clearly as it was possible to think with an eager Australian surfer-hottie giving you a make-out lap-dance.

“Fuck me,” said Jessica. “Fuck me, Thomas. It’s been _so long_ —”

Thomas groaned. “I’d like to, Jess. I _really_ would. But I can’t!”

Jessica kissed her way over to Thomas’s ear and whispered, “Those cold-fish mermaids can’t do it for you? I bet I could. I bet I could make you _scream_ …”

Now Thomas too was lost in a haze of lust. He tore away Jessica’s bikini top, revealing her small, pert tits; and she ripped off the skirt of grass and leaves that she’d made—she wasn’t wearing any underwear—causing Thomas to just stare, for several mute seconds, at the sight of her pretty little _pussy_. He hadn’t seen a real woman’s pussy in entirely too long. It looked… inviting.

Thomas, of course, was already buck-naked; there was nothing on him for Jessica to remove. So she pushed him back down onto the sand, and as he lay supine, she tried everything that she could think of to bring him some kind of physical pleasure. Of course, it was mostly things that he had already done with all of the mermaids, but she didn’t know that. She kissed Thomas all over; rubbed her beasts against his chest, and down his abs, and even up and down the front of his tail, as if to simulate a titfuck for Thomas’s nonexistent dick. She sucked his earlobes, licked his gills, tweaked and played with his nipples, and tried to finger and lick his scaly groin. But nothing worked.

Eventually, the frenzied love-making became more one-sided, with Thomas taking control, reaching up to massage Jessica’s perky boobs or reaching down to stroke her folds and finger her clit—until Jessica placed both of Thomas’s hands insistently on her tits, and she started grinding her vulva on the front of his tail, humping his fish-crotch, stimulating her labia and her clitoris by rubbing them against his slick scales. She did this until she was sopping wet with arousal, and Thomas—who could feel the very occasional twinge in the scales around his genital-vent whenever Jessica happened by lucky accident to rub him _just exactly_ the right way—groaned in a miasma of frustration and vexing, unceasing horniness.

Once Thomas simply couldn’t take any more, he stopped Jessica and said to her between heavy, ragged breaths, “Lie back. I’d really like to eat your pussy.”

Jessica smiled wide. “You would?”

“I haven’t even seen a pussy in a long damn time.”

Jessica rolled off of Thomas’s tail and reclined on the beach-sand. It was still morning; the shadows of the palm-grove stretched out around them. Thomas wasted no time burying his face in between Jessica’s legs—reveling in the sight, the smell, the taste of her womanhood. It had been too long… he caressed her clit and her cunt, worked both with his tongue and his lips, tickled her taint with the stubble on his chin, and generally ate her out with the enthusiasm of a starving man at a buffet.

Surprisingly soon, Jessica came, and she came hard, with keening gasps that progressed to a long, sustained moan of climactic bliss. Her legs turned to jelly, and she rolled over, pulling Thomas close to her so that she could kiss him, taste him, run her tongue from his lips to his neck to his collarbone. Run her hands over his body: feel his pecks and his abs, grab at his ass, stroke his cock—

 _Wait a damn minute,_ they both thought at the same time. Since when did Thomas have an ass and a cock? They both looked down to see that his fishtail had retreated from his waistline down to his upper thighs, exposing to all the world his bare ass, his nutsack, and his newly-erect penis.

Jessica could only finger his member (Thomas closed his eyes and shivered from the sensation) and stammer, “What the—? When did—?”

Thomas scooted himself back into a sitting position and looked down at his dick, standing proudly at attention, pubic hair above it and thigh-gap below. “A siren,” he said, “can grow a pussy—just once—if she ‘tastes the seed of the land’. Now I guess we know what happens when a triton tastes pussy-juice.”

“But, this is amazing!” cried Jessica. “Does this mean you have your dick back!?”

“Only temporarily,” said Thomas, too excited to be sad. “I think it only lasts for half an hour, or until I come.”

“Well in that case, let’s not waste any time!” said Jessica. “I want that cock inside of me, right now, chop-chop!

“Wait,” said Thomas. “We can’t! This—having sex with a mermaid—it’s how they changed me.”

Jessica took a few minutes to mull over the implications of what Thomas had just said. As she pondered, she didn’t waste the opportunity: she reached over and worked his shaft with her hand, keeping him hard and causing him to close his eyes and huff heavy breaths— _Damn it, if she keeps that up, I will **not** last long_, thought Thomas.

Finally, Jessica arrived at a decision. She once again straddled Thomas’s tail, the lips of her pussy hovering dangerously close to his (potentially enchanted) member. “I’ve made up my mind,” she said. “Do it. Do _me_. I want to be a mermaid.”

“Are you nuts!?” cried Thomas. “I’d give _anything_ to be human again—but it’s impossible! The mermaids said that once you change, there’s no going back!”

“Oh, and the mermaids always tell the truth, do they?” retorted Jessica. “The mermaids never lie?”

Thomas looked down at his dick, throbbing-hard and dripping with anticipatory precum. _They didn’t tell me that **this** was possible. They lied to me. What else have the sirens lied about?_

While Thomas was coming to that realization, Jessica ended the debate for the both of them: she impaled herself on Thomas’s dick and started riding him, pumping herself up and down, while at the same time, Thomas grabbed at her tits and struggled to maintain control. But it wasn’t to be: he had gone far too long without real, human sex, and now his tolerance-level was at an all-time low. Before Jessica had even really gotten up to speed, Thomas felt the blood rushing to his face, and he felt his balls tighten, and he exploded into Jessica with a piteous groan.

He tried in futile desperation to help her along. He bucked his hips and thrust up into her; he reached down and fingered at her clit. But it was no use: the instant he finished cumming, his penis vanished again, likely for good this time, and his scrotum and ass went with it. Fish-scales covered his lower half up to the waistline again; Thomas was once again a hopeless, dickless merman.

Jessica, meanwhile, watched in a mixture of fascination and growing horror as her legs melded together and became covered over with shining purple scales, and the space in between her two limbs—from her feet all the way up to her crotch—filled in with flesh. Her shin-bones lengthened as her ankles became rigid and disappeared; her feet flattened out into a wide set of fluke-shaped tailfins; and her ass-cheeks, asshole, and pussy all closed up and vanished, with the last of the scales to appear finally swallowing up her clitoris and leaving only unfeeling fish-flesh in its place.

“I didn’t get to come,” said Jessica lamely.

“Sorry,” was all Thomas could think to say.

“Good thing you ate me out before,” said Jessica. “I would have hated to have missed out on that.”

They were both still a little bit stunned by all that just transpired. Jessica had gone and made a very reckless decision, and the full weight of it was only just now starting to sink in.

“How can you make a joke like that, at a time like this?” said Thomas. “Did you even stop and think about what this would mean?”

“Yes! It means I can get off this horrible fucking island!” said Jessica. “If that means living in the ocean with mermaids, so be it!”

“Ugh—fine!” said Thomas with a groan. “I guess I’d better take you to meet the girls. Let’s just hope they don’t murder you or something.”


	6. Chapter 6

“This is _so_ weird,” said Jessica as they swam. It was her first swim as a mermaid. She and Thomas were headed around the island, to go meet the sirens in the lagoon.

“What is?” asked Thomas. He glanced over at Jessica—they were holding hands as they swam together—and he noticed that with her free hand, the newly-transformed mermaid kept reaching down and pawing at the flatness where her crotch used to be, feeling at the scales around her fish-genitalia.

“How everything feels—on the inside,” said Jessica. “You know how in cartoons and movies, they always try to make a mermaid’s tail look—well, look as _fishy_ as possible? No leg-bones, no knees, extra fins all over everywhere—”

“I guess?”

“Well the reality is just so—I don’t know— _weird_! It feels like I still have my legs—like, if I could just, maybe, _twist_ the right way, I could _spread_ them and feel my pussy again!”

“I get a feeling like that sometimes myself,” said Thomas. At Jessica’s questioning look, he explained, “Sometimes, I feel like my dick is still— _in there_ somewhere, just buried, deep down, like the only reason I can’t feel it is because I’m wearing five layers of thick clothing or something. But I know it isn’t true.”

“How can you know for sure?”

“Trust me, I know,” said Thomas. “I don’t have a dick anymore, and you don’t have a pussy. We just have—fish business down there. I have a—a sperm-hole, and you have an egg-hole, and that’s all there is to it.”

Jessica pressed the issue—as if she simply couldn’t accept what Thomas was trying to tell her. “And what happens if we just—you know—really _go_ for it? Don’t surrender, don’t take ‘no’ for an answer?” As she spoke, Jessica was drifting closer to Thomas now, positioning herself so that as he swam in the ordinary way, with his belly pointing down to the seabed, she was doing a kind of mermaid “backstroke” and moving herself directly underneath him—her cute little breasts pointing skyward, a mere couple of inches away from grazing against his pecks.

“The same thing that happened when we tried to ‘go for it’ back on the beach,” said Thomas. “Doesn’t work. It just makes you… horny. Horny, frustrated, and unsatisfied after.”

Jessica reached up and put her arms and Thomas’s neck. “Sounds like it could be fun,” she commented.

“Maybe it can be, a little. At first. But it gets old.” Thomas embraced Jessica, but he also shook his head. “Unless you’re into some really freaky shit, like bondage, or not letting your partner cum…”

Jessica only smiled at that and said, “Then what can we do to relieve all this… steamy sexual tension?” And then she kissed him.

They hung together in the water like that for a long while, just lazily kissing, feeling each other up, gently rubbing their tails together. After a time, things became heated, and Jessica in particular really _went for it_ —she attacked every one of Thomas’s erogenous zones that she could find with fervor and gusto, and she encouraged him to do the same to her. She wanted to have the orgasm that she’d been denied when she’d transformed; she wanted to give Thomas an orgasm, just to see him quivering and melting in her arms. But it wasn’t to be. They drove each other to the limit, and eventually even Jessica was begging for Thomas to leave her sore and overwhelmed boobs alone.

“Wow,” said Jessica at the end of it all, between gasps of inhaled seawater.

“Yup,” said Thomas. “Feel anything between where your legs used to be?”

“No,” said Jessica in a daze. “No wetness, no tingle… nothing.”

“Same for me,” said Thomas. “Nothing getting hard, nothing sensitive… nothing at all.”

“You were _not_ kidding,” said Jessie. “That whole mess was… unbelievably, cocksucking, motherfucking _frustrating_. I’m so horny…”

“Life as a mermaid,” said Thomas. “Get used to it.”

* * *

Thomas and Jessica arrived at the lagoon to find only Clio present, swimming alone between the still, clear waters. “Thomas!” she exclaimed with a gasp. “Who _is_ this?”

“This is Jessica,” he said, “the other girl who was on the boat with me. The one your sisters never found.”

“But—she’s a mermaid! How is that possible?”

“He _changed_ me!” said Jessica indignantly. “Changed me, the same way you changed him!”

“It isn’t possible!” insisted Clio. “Only sirens have that power! ‘When a siren tastes the seed of the land’—”

“Yeah,” interrupted Thomas, “but what about when a triton tastes the _juice_ of the land? Has anyone ever tried that before!?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Clio. She looked from Jessica to Thomas and said again, “I’m sorry; I didn’t know!”

“If you were wrong about that, what else were you wrong about?” pressed Thomas. “Could I do it again? Eat a girl out, get my dick back a second time? Or a third? Could I find some way to become human again? Could she?” he finished, tilting his head at Jessica.

“No!” cried Clio. “No, no, and no! Everything we know about magic—all the rules—says that the power only works once for each coven! That only a siren can take on a land-woman’s cunt and… change a man…” her voice trailed off when she had the realization.

“Your magical law doesn’t say anything about tritons changing women, does it?” guessed Thomas.

“I—I—I suppose it doesn’t,” said Clio. “But still, that doesn’t mean the other rules don’t apply! You’ll most likely never be able to change anyone but Jessica here, and _she_ won’t ever be able to change _anyone_ , because she’s not a siren—just an ordinary mermaid!”

“What’s the bloody difference?” asked Jessica.

“Means you’re not a sea-witch,” Thomas supplied.

“Oh. Cool.”

“Point is,” said Thomas, “maybe there’s a _chance_ —however small, one in a million; I reckon it might be better than the chance those eggs of ours ever hatch—that there might be a way to _change_ _back._ Make us human again.”

Clio shook her head sadly. “It’s folly. It can’t be done. Changes are another magic that only work once. A mermaid who becomes human can never be a mermaid again; and you two can _never_ be humans again. Give this madness up!” She was sounding desperate now; she had an inkling of where this was going.

“I’m sorry,” said Thomas, “but I can’t. If not for my sake, then for Jessica’s, I have to at least _try_ —try and find a way. She doesn’t deserve this fate.”

“Nobody does!” said Jessica with her hands on her scaly hips. “I _want_ my legs and pussy back! If there’s a way, I’m going to find it!”

“What will you do?” asked Clio timidly.

“Leave,” said Thomas simply. “Travel. Search for a cure.”

“You say that as if being merfolk were some kind of disease!” said Clio with a sob. “It isn’t!

“I’m sorry,” said Thomas. “Whatever it is, it isn’t… _human_ enough. Not for me.”

“If you leave us, you won’t be a triton anymore,” tried Clio. “You’ll just be an ordinary merman. You’ll age!”

“I can live with that,” said Thomas.

Clio suddenly darted forward and gripped at Thomas’s arm. “Please!” she cried, resorting to begging at the last. “Please, don’t go! I love you, Thomas! I love you, I love you, I love you—”

“You… you could come with us,” he suggested. “See the world’s oceans…”

Clio shook her head. “Cally and Cory would never want to leave this place. And I could never leave them.”

“Well, I guess that’s it then,” said Thomas. Just before he and Jessie finally flicked their tailfins and sped out of the lagoon, he turned back one last time and saw Clio openly crying.

“Please,” she bawled, “I love you so much…”

Still Thomas couldn’t say it. “I’ll… come back if nothing works,” he said at last. “Once I’ve given up.”

Jessie waved goodbye and added, “See you around, fish-tits.”

* * *

**_Five Years Later…_ **

* * *

As it turned out, the moon apparently did not rule the lives of normal merfolk quite so harshly as it ruled over the sirens. Though all merfolk were subject to the whims of the tides, the merfolk of the less magical, more mundane variety did not experience the sirens’ lunar mating-cycle. Instead, like most members of the animal kingdom, their mating-season came annually, in the spring. There was one particular day of the year when a mermaid could be made to experience multiple, body-rocking orgasms as she laid her eggs, and a merman could be made to fertilize them at the merest suggestive touch of any erogenous zone. At all other times of the year, orgasm was certainly _possible_ for the merfolk, but it was superbly difficult to actually achieve, requiring near-tantric levels of patience, self-control, and dedication.

Thomas and Jessica swam the oceans together as a pair of lovers for five years, and they experienced all of this as but one aspect of their undersea lives together. They were lovers, but they weren’t mates—they never wanted to be burdened by offspring, as mer-children would have been a hindrance to their travels. And so, on egg-day in the spring, Thomas would induce Jessica to lay—it was easy to make her cum on _that_ occasion!—and then they would swim a safe distance away for Thomas to ejaculate. Throughout the rest of the year, whenever they attempted lovemaking, they did so in the hope of achieving climax, but they rarely succeed. Jessica had been right all along; normal, non-siren merfolk could indeed go “all the way” by _just going for it_ , taking no prisoners, not taking no for an answer; but the desired result was by no means easy or common. In fact, it would be generous to say that either Thomas _or_ Jessica achieved climax on one attempt out of ten; one in twenty might have been closer to the fact of the matter. In the end, Thomas decided that it wasn’t much different from when he’d been a triton among sirens—merely less predictable, and in some ways less reliable. The frequency of good sex was about the same on average, basically a wash in his opinion.

Clio turned out to be right about the powers. Thomas no longer had the triton’s ability to regrow his dick by eating a woman out. He had used up his one attempt to create a mermaid by changing Jessica. And Jessica never possessed the ability to regrow her pussy and potentially create a merman at all; she never had that magic, because she wasn’t a siren.

One day, approximately five years after Thomas and Jessica had departed the lagoon and left the three siren sisters behind, they were swimming together somewhere in the Aegean Sea, possibly in the vicinity of the Island of Naxos, when they were caught up in a great Mediterranean storm together and washed ashore on the beaches of an unknown, uncharted isle…

* * *

It was a beautiful island, with a pleasant, mild climate. There were olive-trees growing within sight of the shoreline. Thomas and Jessica sat perched on a rock together, like the sirens of yore; but they did not sing to ships. They merely kissed each other, fondled one another’s bodies, and enjoyed their lover’s company.

Thomas was in the mood to kick things up a notch and perhaps, if he was lucky, cover his darling Jessica’s beautiful violet tail-scales with a spray of lusty merman-spooge.

The sound of hooves on sand drew their attention away from heady above-water lovemaking; they stopped kissing, turned, and spied something marvelous: there was a centaur galloping along the beach, coming to greet them.

“Hail, oceanus and oceanid,” said the centaur formally. He wore no clothing; his upper body was that of a large, well-muscled and well-tanned, attractive Greek man; his lower body was that of an Arabian thoroughbred, with fur of light brown.

“Hail, centaur,” said Thomas.

After they briefly exchanged introductions, the centaur, whose name was Pyteros, asked them, “For what reason have you sought out our shores?”

“Actually, we came here by accident,” said Jessica. “We were thrown off course by a storm.”

“But we _are_ on a quest,” said Thomas. “We seek a means of returning ourselves to human form.”

“Am I to understand, then,” said Pyteros, “that you were both once human beings, and were changed into merfolk?”

“That’s correct,” said Thomas.

“Then I am sorry to tell you, what you seek is not possible,” said the centaur. (Thomas and Jessica both nodded; they had heard this many times before.). “However,” he went on, “I am a shaman among my people. I cannot restore unto you your humanity. But if you desire to leave behind the seas and be merfolk no longer, I _can_ change you both into centaurs. If this is something you would _truly_ desire.”

Thomas and Jessica looked at each other in desirous anticipation. This was it! This was what they had been searching for! A way to leave the oceans—a way to be _mammals_ again—randy, fuck-happy mammals! “Change us!” they both insisted.

“Very well,” said Pyteros. “The female must go first.”

While the two merfolk beached themselves, Pyteros busied himself preparing the ritual. He made a fire from sweet-smelling wood; he burned herbs and chanted prayers to Hera and Zeus. Finally, he presented himself to Jessica—and bade that she swallow her fill.

Jessica had certainly never before entertained the idea of blowing a centaur’s horse-cock before. But if that was how one stopped being a mermaid and became a centauress, she was all for it. She could only fit so much of its length into her mouth; she had to work the massive shaft with both hands as she sat on the rocky beach beneath the centaur’s haunches. Eventually, Pyteros cried out and came, and a massive gush of cum spilled onto Jessica’s face and down her throat—she swallowed what she was able.

The change took place immediately. Before Thomas could even blink, Jessica stood on the beach next to Pyteros—on four legs, her lower body that of a lovely dappled-gray mare.

“Now the male,” said Pyteros. He presented Jessica to Thomas and said, “Attend to her.”

It was a little awkward for Jessica to turn around, lift her tail, and show her horse-pussy to Thomas. But she learned quickly, and she managed it well enough. The dark, teardrop-shaped vulva glistened with wet anticipation—Jessica was so excited to have a pussy back, even if it was one she couldn’t reach, that she was already more than ready for Thomas to have a go at it!

“Hurry, gorgeous,” she said. “I want that tongue of yours on my pussy this instant, and a horse-cock inside of it two minutes from now!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Thomas. He leaned in—but before his tongue could make contact with Jessica’s beautiful new folds, the shaman stopped him.

“Have care, triton,” said Pyteros. “For thou art bound by fate and magick to a coven. If this is not what thou _truly_ desirest in thy heart of hearts, it will fail, and thou wilt never have another chance to join the _kentauroi_.”

Thomas paused. Who did he love more: Jessica or Clio? He leaned forward and hesitantly reached out with his tongue.

* * *

**_FIN_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well how about that! I think I managed more porn and less plot with this fresh attempt at writing some mermaid PWP.
> 
> Among mermaid fans, there are a few individuals who are downright _violently_ opposed to mermaids having knees and leg-bones. I’m sure that some part of me wanted to write this story especially to piss those diehard partisans off. Mythical creatures can come in many varieties! One only needs to worry about being consistent _within_ a given fictional universe, after all.
> 
> While I’m certain that this won’t be the last story I ever write featuring frustrated cuntless mermaids and dickless mermen, I do intend to exercise a little variety in the near future. My next mermaid tale will feature mermaids as I _definitively_ envision them: with gilled necks; sea-green hair; coiling, serpentine tails sporting dorsal and other fins; and proper mammalian sex organs.
> 
> I’ll never give my mermaids webbed fingers or fins-for-ears, though. Those affectations are just plain fucking ridiculous.


End file.
